Apoocalypse, Huh?, & Suckers
February 8, 2012
Warning: this story is not for the faint of heart. It is, however, for anyone with any prior experience with baby poosplosions.
If you a) are proper or b) do not fall into the latter category, you should leave now and go read the post about The Little Things instead.
I actually have a picture to go along with the Apoocalypse of 2012, but I’ll spare you. (My family wasn’t so lucky.)
This sums up the back story pretty well:
Without fail, every time Beckett goes into the exersaucer, we have an exploosion of epic proportions. The great part is, I don’t realize he needs his diaper changed until he’s bounced around for a good 30 minutes or so to make extra sure he’s gotten poo in every crevice imaginable. It’s a pretty regular occurrence around these parts that results in lots of extra laundry and many, many wipes.
Yesterday, though…ohhh mercy. Yesterday.
Are you ever in a situation where you take a step back just to breathe and ask, “Where do I even start?” Like, maybe, you broke a jar of spaghetti sauce or dumped the dustpan full of every morsel you just swept up? (No? Just me?)
I had to ask that question yesterday. I knew we were in trouble when I saw that B had poo on every piece of clothing he had on, on his cheek, in his hair, and on all 4 limbs. I seriously considered calling for backup.
We went straight to be hosed off in the tub: diaper, clothes, baby, and all.
I’ll spare you the rest of the details, as if I haven’t given you enough to visualize already.
One final note: make sure the tub is draining properly before hosing your child off in it.
What? Did you say something? I wasn’t paying attention. Or maybe I was but I already forgot what you said. Oh … no … wait for it … ok, what you said finally processed. Those hamsters aren’t spinning the wheel as fast as they used to.
It’s no offense to you, I’m just kind of an idiot these days. No one warned me that, among the many other changes to your life when you reproduce, pieces of your brain die of little by little until you’re left with 30% functioning brain activity, 70% mush and Arby’s leftovers.
I even blogged before about how many stupid things I did while pregnant.
As it turns out, I’ve gotten dumber. It’s shocking, really.
Today, for instance, I got about 14 miles ahead of myself and coordinated a date for a baby shower with 20+ people before realizing I wouldn’t even be in town.
And should I even bring up the glue incident again? I mean, really.
Someone admit me.
This probably isn’t a good story, but it’s my party and I can tell it if I want to.
Our Aquatopia Deluxe Safety Bath Time Easy Kneeler (pictured below) was in the wake of disaster in the Apoocalypse. So I washed it. It’s looks machine washable, right? (Say yes. I’m fragile these days.)
|Is it just me or is this girl like 10 years old? I think it’s time to retire the ole Easy Kneeler and maybe let her shower alone like a normal adolescent.|
Turns out, it maybe isn’t as washer friendly as one might think, which is probably what any human of average intelligence would have deduced beforehand.
It came out sort of…saggy. And – minor detail – half of the suction cups were missing.
I retrace my steps to find the suckers. Not stuck to the tub…not in the washer…not hiding in the clothes from the dryer…
Think with me now: heat + plastic suckers =
All 3 were stuck in various locations inside the dryer.
Also – who knew our dryer had a lovely speckled interior? Not I.