Please feel free to chime in on this situation if you have any pointers.
- She isn’t struggling with any type of diaper rash.
- There has been no deviation in the changing method.
- In the past we have used toys or items to distract her.
If you can’t help your wonderful baby girl enjoy her first Valentine’s Day, at least make it memorable.
We have one hard and fast, yet simple rule when it comes to our 6-month-old daughter Maddie – Her waking hours are not to surpass the three-hour mark. You can flirt with the mark, but violate it at your own peril.
I’m not sure how often I need a refresher course on this one, but Maddie laid down the law on me once again tonight.
Our day got off to a rough start because it appears that peaches DO NOT agree with the baby’s digestive track. Her first taste of peaces came around 8 this morning. It will likely be the last taste for months, if not years to come.
Her tummy was all out of whack and under siege from gas attacks all morning. This made any decent naptime very hard to come by. By 2pm, she had only three half hour naps under her belt and if it those numbers stood up, it would be our shortest nap period on record.
After a couple unsuccessful attempts at putting her down for a nap, I noticed that her tummy must be much feeling better. That energy and smile came back and I was overwhelmed by illusions of grandeur. Fantasies of a harmonious and quiet Valentine’s Day bedtime process brought a warm glow to my heart.
As we approached 5pm, I decided to check the diaper and commence bedtime procedures. When I got to the diaper, without going into any gory details, I saw that the evil peaches had been expunged. I got busy changing the diaper when a dark cloud enshrouded the room.
Maddie’s mood was deteriorating and it was time for me to step up the pace. By the time I was done with the diaper, the baby was melting down and I was not prepared.
BUT? How could? What had happened was?
Now I was far out at sea with the shore miles away – I thrashed about and tried to soothe the baby, but it was too late. She had been up too long and I had no answers as to how to help her.
I tried to regroup and let her stew in the crib for a few minutes. That foolish action was met with brutal resistance. Now I have a desperate baby in my arms and there’s nothing to do but cling to the buoy and wait for the storm to pass. The tantrum has settled down all around you and it could have been avoided.
It’s always interesting to be struck with the harsh reality that you have no idea what you are doing. Whatever instincts or intelligence you gather along the way is completely washed away during moments like these. I wish Maddie had spent more time with the selection committee so she could have found a father who had at least half of a clue.
As Maddie has become more and more accustomed to solid food, it was finally time for us to up the ante. Earlier this week we added a little solid food brunch to the baby’s repertoire. At the time, we didn’t really anticipate some of the double duties that sneak up on you once your baby starts doubling down with the solids.
If you have a problem with the word “double” or if you hated the Doublemint Gum song, this article is NOT for you!
The first double duty we ran into was trying to preserve Maddie’s wardrobe. The baby loves her food so much that she almost always chooses to share it with whatever she happens to be wearing. Even with the bib on, Maddie likes spreading her food around the neck of her shirt. She has also become quite proficient at sharing healthy doses of solid mush with both of her sleeves.
Maddie is also well aware of the skin benefits associated with rubbing various solids all over her legs and when possible, her feet as well. We have quickly learned that these clothes must be soaked in water almost immediately. That is unless we prefer some of the more exotic stains that come with sweet potatoes, carrots and even those nasty peas.
Also, double the solid food leads to more diapers packed with secret and unspeakable treasures. Wait, that’s not entirely true – the treasure is actually tainted. For the past couple of months, we have only encountered one really messy diaper per day. Now, one must be ready at any given moment with the frightening potential of back-to-back dirty diaper episodes.
Last but certainly not least is the double bath time duties. As the diapers grow more and more unruly, so does the need for extra trips to the bathtub. These new duties are not a hardship at all – but they can be rather time consuming. It’s also interesting that we are now learning a great deal more about the cause and effect relationship as it relates to the actions you undertake with your child.
After reading Diaper Change Triggers Honey Badger Attack – A fellow Stay Home PaPa named LJ Burton told me about the double threat he faces from his two-year-old twins. LJ is our first ever Stay Home PaPa guest blogger.
By LJ Burton:
My newest two daughters, twin girls that will be 2yrs old close to the end of this month and like Maddie, they have learned several new tricks themselves.
The bigger of the two, Kassie, has somewhat of a Houdini streak in her. She is adept at getting out of her own clothes, particularly her nighttime sleeper. But that’s not enough. Once she gets the sleeper off during the night, she’ll manage to take off her diaper. Sometimes the diaper is found thrown underneath her crib, other times it’s stuffed down in the leg of the sleeper. Mostly it’s been a wet diaper when this happens, but a few times it’s been a messy one. Oh what fun!!!
Her twin sister, who’s also the oldest of the two and the smaller one, sometimes becomes Kassie’s dress up doll. She’ll manage to unzip and disrobe her sister and on occasion will also take her sister’s diaper off as well. The latest occurrence was just this morning. We’ve managed to somewhat stymie all of this disrobing by using a safety pin on the sleeper’s zippers, but that doesn’t always stop them. On night Kassie managed to pull the head off the safety pin, then proceed with her usual disrobing.
As if that’s not enough, Kassie has become very skilled at climbing in and out of her crib as well as her sister’s crib. She managed to go to such lengths that at the height of her activities she extracted a container of socks from the top of a dresser drawer, carried that container over into her sister’s crib, then climbed into her sister’s crib to throw them all around. Before she climbed into her sister’s crib she managed to pull all of their clothes out of the dresser’s three drawers and decorate them around their bedroom.
As if that’s not enough, my wife found Kati, the smaller of the two, sitting on the top of our cat’s condo tower earlier this morning. It stands about 4ft high and is about 2ft square and has three levels. There’s an armchair sitting next to the cat condo, but we still don’t know how she managed to climb up there. Particularly without falling in the process.
Kicking while being diapered seems like a walk in the park by comparison. 🙂 I’ll trade with you for a while if you’d like to see what it’s like with multiples!
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.
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.
For three weeks now, I’ve been terribly apprehensive about writing this article about how we defeated sweet Madeleine’s diaper rash. The fear is that if I publish the article, the rash will comes back at my 4-month-old with a vengeance!
Diaper rash had been constant headache for all of us since the baby was born. It actually seemed to impact the parents a great deal more than it bothered our little girl. We would fret, complain and complete exhaustive research projects like we were trying to cure yellow fever.
We purchased every darned product we could find under the sun:
- Butt Paste
- Burt’s Bee’s
- Home Remedies
- VooDoo dolls and potions
- Ouija board
One of three things happened every time:
- The rash would get temporarily better
- Stay the same
- Get worse
Every time it was right back to square one with bumps, the redness and sometimes blood. Never has there been an affliction with so many cures available that only seem to make the problem worse. Maybe teenage pimples, but isn’t that another billion dollar pharmaceutical industry designed to rip off desperate consumers?
Sorry, I promised Maddie that I would not get carried away. So without further adieu, here’s the cure.
STEP I – Stop using baby wipes, especially the medicated ones.
STEP II – After each diaper change, use a little container of water and cleanse the affected area with GENTLE paper towel halves. (Pick a brand)
STEP III – Throw all of that diaper rash crap out the window – Every tube, jar and bottle of magic potion (unless it actually works for your baby.) Sometimes a little Mustela can go a long way, but try the natural route first!
STEP IV – In 3 to 4 days, Maddie’s rash went the way of the 8 track player and the dinosaur. It’s gone. There’s been no flare-ups, no bumps and no blood.
I don’t know if this remedy will work for you and your baby and we don’t know for sure if it made Maddie any happier. However, we sleep much better at night knowing that the baby is not resting on a chapped bottom!
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.