In recent weeks, the whole concept of clothes and diaper changes has fallen out of favor with our little honey badger. Maddie’s legendary kicking has only intensified and now diaper changes and wardrobe switches have devolved into a messy street fight. The ultimate problem is that Maddie does not like to be messed with and is rarely shy about sharing her stronger opinions.
Let’s start with the diaper change chronicles and figure out what’s been going on up until today. The problem really hasn’t been taking off the diaper; the challenge has been trying to put on a new one.
This in itself was not a terrible issue to have, just a bit time consuming. Once the diaper comes off and the clean up is finished – most of the hard work is done. But the simple task of putting on the new diaper has been a bit complicated.
The wild kicks have been causing some concern because those wild feet have been finding there way off of the changing mat and crashing into the hard wood of the table. (OUCH!) Maddie doesn’t seem to mind, but I still cringe every time it happens.
Another issue is when the baby kicks the diaper. I don’t mind having a clean diaper kicked out of my hand, but when it’s full a special treats, that’s another issue altogether. Also, trying to fasten the new diaper while Maddie is flailing away like a steel cage fighter in the heat of battle has its drawbacks.
These little tricks were really no big deal until today when things may have taken a terrifying turn for the worst. I hope it was only a fluke, but on two separate occasions, Maddie grasped the fastener on her dirty diapers and ripped it open herself.
Neither one of these incidents caused a great deal of disruption, but the specter of true carnage is hanging over my head like the Sword of Damocles. I’m counting on the fact that these were isolated incidents. If Maddie has truly figured out how to release the fury all by herself, her parents are in for a special round of enjoyment.
Once again the baby got the drop on her PaPa during a particularly adventurous diaper change. The changing had been a complicated and messy affair, but it appeared that the worst of it was behind me.
The clean up was all but finished when I was reaching for a new diaper. That’s when Maddie let out a delighted gurgle and her legs shot straight up in the air. I thought she was just being cute, but I was way off base. While admiring Maddie’s awkward yoga moves and looking at her elevated feet – I was momentarily distracted from what going on down below.
In less than three seconds, the baby had unleashed a gusher of the bad stuff. The second I saw it, she slammed both of her feet down into the new pocket of sewage. (Stay calm, shields up!) I reached for her feet a second too late as they both shot straight up again. (Houston, we have a problem) She grabbed at her poopy feet with both hands. (I shall fear no evil)
Question – Where does a baby automatically put their hands after every new tactile sensation? In their mouth of course! I realize I have about a second before Maddie gets a taste of her own toxic medicine. I pin both of her arms with my right arm as I am using my mouth and left hand to gather critical paper towel reinforcements.
Maddie is completely delighted with all the carnage unfolding around her. She’s smiling and carefully observing as I am scrubbing her nasty paws down with wet paper towels. Once her hands are clean, I notice that my little artist has also decorated the wall with a poopy footprint.
Next up, time for little foot cleansing. Thank God for my secret stash of cloth diapers. Between those and the paper towels, I managed to clean the baby, the diaper staging area and the newly minted wall. It was only then that I realized that the war had left its mark on me as well. I finally got myself cleaned up before Maddie and continued her EPA scrub down operations in the baby tub.
Unlike our poop storm in the mall last week – Maddie found this entire fiasco very entertaining and looks forward to our next poop wars encounter.
With all the mayhem with Maddie at the Short Hills Mall yesterday, a couple of friends reached out to me about the fear factor associated with having a baby. This is when I realized that I left out a few critical components in telling yesterday’s story.
First let’s recognize the obvious points of my poop adventure at the mall.
- It was pretty nasty.
- It was relatively embarrassing.
- It definitely sapped every ounce of energy out of my body.
But believe it or not – there were multiple positives that came from this uncomfortable situation. Spending time with your daughter is an amazing experience even when everything is going to POOP in front of you.
Number One: When you are walking through a public place and the baby is screaming – you are much more focused on soothing the baby rather than the stares that are coming your way. That focus on the child makes this walk of shame much more palatable.
Number Two: Many other parents were very kind and offered words of encouragement as Maddie and I passed by. One guy even stopped and said, “I’ve been there, man.” Another woman held the elevator for me and assured me that things like this happen from time to time.
Number Three: When Maddie and I finally made it to the car – She gave me a big warm smile and fell asleep right there in my arms. There is no feeling that compares to that in the world.
So despite the day’s trials and tribulations, I was practically swimming in my love for little Maddie. No matter what adventures we enjoy or are forced to struggle through together – the love for the baby overcomes all difficult or unsanitary situations – even when you are slugging it out through a poop storm at a mall in Northern New Jersey.
Maddie and PaPa had just finished a quick and efficient trip to the mall in Short Hills, New Jersey when things took an abrupt and alarming turn for the worst
We had been in the mall for less than 20 minutes and were already on our way to the car. I lifted Maddie out of her stroller and stopped dead in my tracks – say it ain’t so! The stroller had a long brown smelly stain that could only mean one thing – BACKDRAFT! Backdraft is the name I’ve given to the gravity-defying phenomenon that takes place when poop blows up the baby’s back instead of where it belongs into the diaper.
Much to my dismay, I turned the baby around and the evil gravy had obliterated her shirt! You cannot be serious! Now it’s decision time. At this point, the baby is still happy. Do I risk taking her home covered in the goop or do I risk a trip to the public bathroom? The last time we changed a backdraft, Maddie screamed bloody murder for several minutes. I made the only decision I could – try to clean things up and hope for the best.
One we got into the bathroom, Shakespeare came to mind: “Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war!” It was a nightmare! To date, it’s the worst diaper disaster I have ever encountered. I honestly didn’t know where to start – there were nasty pockets of poop in too many places to count. As soon as I started cleaning up Maddie, she went nuclear, screaming at the indignity and discomfort of it all.
Now it’s a party! Poop, screaming and penetrating stares from fellow shoppers! The only thing that could possibly enhance this experience would be if my baby bag were missing a backup outfit! Yahtzee!!! No backup!
Now what? Just like in the movie Legends of the Fall, I had to wrap Maddie in a bearskin! Well actually it was my fleece jacket, but you get the picture. Now Maddie is really screaming as PaPa rushes through the mall in search of some baby clothes.
Some people are giving me encouraging or sympathetic looks while others are shooting daggers at me – Honey Badger don’t care, she’s just screaming. I rushed into Macy’s and told the clerk, “I need a onesie – Right now would be good!” I laid Maddie down at the register on my jacket and dressed her right there. I’m already doing things I never imagined and Maddie is only four and half months old. I think this parenting thing may take a little more practice.
Poop Happens! This is a surprise to no one who has ever had the pleasure of raising a child, but my little girl is different – she is a SNIPER. Maddie has the patience to become one with the environment – stalk her prey – and fire the shot before the target even knows it’s been hit.
Her doctrine is simple, “One shot, One kill!”
Today’s covert operation was Maddie’s most successful undertaking yet. The baby had a lunch date scheduled with her grandmother this afternoon. The trip out to the restaurant was fairly uneventful. Never one to be caught by surprise, Maddie took a seat in the back so she could see everyone who came in or out.
She spotted her grandmother right away and called her over to the table. Maddie stayed in stealth mode as her grandmother approached – she pretended to be a baby drinking a bottle in the arms of her PaPa, but looks can be deceiving. Grandma Mary Anne came to the table and greeted both of us and Maddie gave her a great big warm smile.
PaPa and Maddie’s grandmother started talking while the baby seemed to be innocently eating her lunch. It was then that Maddie’s father was catching a stray scent of cosmic proportions. A smell that had no place in this world. His hand instinctively went to Maddie’s diaper, but everything was completely dry. Hmmm, PaPa wondered if the lack of sleep was really getting to him.
He kept feeding the baby, but the smell was getting worse! He picked Maddie up, looked at her pants and nothing was out of place. Where could this smell be coming from? Suddenly he felt a warm sickly sensation ebbing down the left thigh of his jeans. He put his hand down there only to find a honey badger sized pool of nastiness gathering on his jeans.
He looked at his mother, scooped up the baby and said, “Umm, we might be a while.”
I busted into the bathroom and placed the baby on the changing table. At this point, the diaper is still clean, her pants are clean – Is there a hidden camera? Is this some sort of joke? This time I lifted Maddie up and turned her around and what I saw violated the very laws of gravity. A biblical poop storm had burst out of the back top of the diaper and shot up the back of the little sniper’s shirt. That’s right – the poop went UP!!!
Poop goes down, not up! Apples fall down, not up! I turned Maddie around and she was gurgling and laughing – “Hey PaPa, Didn’t see that one coming, didja?”
The cleanup was an arduous process with no good way in or out. To make matters worse, once I got the soiled clothing off of the baby, she went ballistic! She screamed to the high heavens as the people who walked into the restroom did a quick about face and hightailed it out of there.
I finally got my little angel all cleaned up and the second we walked back out into public, the water works suddenly dried up and the baby’s best Sunday smile was pasted across her face. She was all prim and proper, Miss Butterscotch and Ponies herself! No evidence of the mess she had made or the tantrum she had thrown. Just the perfect and happy little sniper – always waiting and biding her time for the next big hit!
There are very few hard and fast rules regarding a diaper change. A diaper emergency can strike at any time in any place, but until today, it was always the baby who needed the emergency assistance.
That pattern took a bizarre turn this morning when a standard feeding devolved into an unprecedented toxic spill that would leave Maddie’s PaPa scarred for at least the next 30 to 40 minutes.
It all seemed so innocent; Maddie was in the process of being burped in the sitting position when she unexpectedly whipped her head towards the left while expectorating a thick stream of undesirable fluid. Never let it be said that my little girl is anything less than a crack shot!
The stream of regurgitated milk hit my thigh and aided by gravity, tumbled relentlessly down my leg into areas we can’t mention on this family blog. Now it’s really a party!
PaPa’s privates and his boxers are both swimming in this barbarous baby cocktail and there’s not too much that can be immediately done about it. We are in the middle of a feeding and Madeleine has made it perfectly clear that we are far from done. I can’t remember the last time I was sitting in a pair of soaked britches!
My mind is swimming (no pun intended) with possible exit strategies, but each outcome would just make things worse. What could I have done to prevent this?
I even stop to ponder the crazy female astronaut solution. Remember the wiggedy whacked Lisa Nowak from 2007? She’s that NASA astronaut who drove nearly a thousand miles to try and murder some chick. Lisa wore diapers during the drive so she wouldn’t have to take any bathroom breaks on the way. That must have been one heck of a diaper!
In the end, I decided that I’m still a little too young for adult diapers, but I know that my little girl is like a tiger crouching in the high grass – waiting for her next chance to strike.
An old cliché says into each life, some rain must fall. My sly little daughter introduced me to her own interpretation of that little idiom this morning during bath time.
Just one day after I had the audacity to refer to her as a pooping raptor after giving her Mom the brown treatment – it was my turn to join the festivities. I had just changed Maddie’s diaper and decided to follow it up with a nice bath in the sink.
This was mostly because that the diaper change went horribly wrong. My gorgeous daughter unleashed a deluge of urine that quickly soaked her little nightshirt. Wow, how quickly fortunes can change with a magical peeing munchkin.
Maddie seemed most entertained as I fought to stem the tide of rising urine. Sadly, my good intentions were not enough, as she was now lying in a pool of Mike’s Hard Lemonade.
A quick jaunt to the bathroom sink and I was ready to initiate emergency clean-up operations. Maddie batted her mesmerizing eyes at me, clearly taken by the theater of the moment. I fumbled with faucet, but we were soon ready to go.
Just as I put the warm soapy washcloth to my baby, she decided that it would be best to pee on me as well. But, I was ready. I pivoted her little butt over the sink and Angle Falls fell harmlessly into the running water.
Haaaa!!! – I gazed triumphantly into the mirror only to find a large streak of brown lightning splayed across my t-shirt. But I was so clever, how did, wha had happen was, I mean, but she, where did that come from???
Now the left side of my shirt was a DMZ zone and our bath time had only just begun.
I deftly moved her to the right, determined to finish our clean up when another warm front of pee came in from the west. Still in shock from the brown finger paint – and with my left side now off limits – I was forced to briefly bask in the glory of this introductory golden shower.
It took a good two seconds before I could get her back privates back into the soothing waters of Ashburn, Virginia – but the damage was done.
Now that I’ve joined the Mud Membership Club – I now know what BROWN can do for you!