Shit.

Today's Cereal: Honey Bunches of Oats with Peaches
Current Mood: Annoyed

I know I said I would try not to post stories about baby poop and stuff, but this one has me traumatized.

So I was changing the Wee One's diaper the other day--not a big thing anymore since she goes through, like, 30 a day. Needless to say, I've dropped my guard about doing this. With a little boy, you always have to be ready and waiting to get peed on the minute the diaper comes off. The Girl has not had this problem, and so I'm pretty relaxed about changing her. WAS pretty relaxed, I should say.

Like I said, I ws changing the Wee One's diaper. I took the old one off, and turned my head to grab a new one, when I heard this terrible sound that I can only describe as the sound the ketchup bottle makes when you squeeze it hard. You KNOW the sound. Yes, the Girl had let loose her bowels with all the force of a shotgun. There was poop EVERYWHERE. Maybe you are not familiar with the consistency of newborn poo, but it is for the most part a glorified liquid. So yeah, EVERYWHERE. All across the changing table, down the side, all over the carpet and wall.

This was bad enough, but it doesn't end here. I screamed and screamed, and Kitt came running (thanks for helping me, sweetie!) While we are trying to SOP UP this mess, what happens? She pees all over. Great, now she's swimming in a puddle of that, too. At this point I give up trying to salvage her cleanliness and the outfit she's wearing. They are both lost causes; she's getting a bath. So then while I was trying to take her clothes off, guess what?

She poos AGAIN.

I am not kidding.

Fortunately the second time it was not projectile poo, but STILL. How could something that barely weighs 9 pounds have SO MUCH DAMN POO IN HER!?

This might be funny if it were an isolated incident, but it happened again last night, in the middle of the night. The best part? I was attempting to wipe her at the time, so it was all over my hand. Yum, I know. I had to scream for Kitt 3 times before he woke up to come and help me. And of course, in my sleep-deprived and emotionally fragile state, I am CONVINCED that she is doing it on purpose.

So now everytime I change her diaper, I am in constant fight-or-flight mode. It is stressful, to say the least.