Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Resume Builder

Our eyes meet across a dimly lit living room. The glow of the television illuminates his hazel eyes. The 14 dozen matchbox cars that sit between us are our only obstacle. He reaches out his arm towards me. I know this game. His hand in a fist. I ball my fingers up to match his. One, two three, shoot. Damn. Paper beats rock. Best two out of three?

See, we both heard it. Twice in fact. The unmistakable sound of a clean diaper, no longer clean. What's worse? She was in the bouncy. Double Damn. Everything works against you in the bouncy. Have you ever tried to 'go' in a hammock? Same thing.

Gingerly I grabbed her and checked the back. Confirmed what I already knew.

There's no good way to carry a poop soaked two month old up the stairs. So she looks at me like I'm a nut job. Rightfully so as I held her at arms length trying desperately not to touch 'it'.

Game plan. Get the onesie and sleeper off without covering her in it. It was already at the nape of her neck. This is when I curse whoever invented those stupid sleepers with the snaps only up one leg. You know, the ones where you gamble and try to not dislocate your baby's hip or knee or ankle to get one leg into the non-snapping side. There is no good way to get a baby who cannot hold their head up, into one. No good way. At this point I considered just throwing it away since it's covered in shit and I hate it.

Devil sleeper off. Now onto the onesie. Fold it inside itself. Try desperately not to get it in her hair. After all, she just had a bath yesterday. It would have been easier to cut it off. Have I mentioned that she basically laughed at me the whole time?

And we are naked. Ok, not me. Just her. She loves being naked. Who doesn't? Naked and poop covered apparently also appeals to her. To each her own.

It's really a daily occurrence. Perhaps she's in the bouncy too much. Perhaps it's payback for trying to sneak a couple ounces of formula into a bottle. It's probably a sign of her love for me. Guess who else loves me a lot. Her brother. A LOT.

Glam.our.ous.

The Best part? Add it to my resume. I am a pro.





1 comment:

Katie said...

I'm a pro at the "fold the onesie inside itself" trick as to not get poop smeared even MORE all over here, or her hair, or ME.

And then? If its really bad? The onesie goes in the trash. Yea, I said it.