Aargh!

(Warning: this blog entry contains several references to baby excrement)

I was feeding Alice lunch this afternoon when she filled her diaper. She's an every-other-day pooper, so these things usually need to be taken care of right away. I picked her up and got poop all over my hands. Not a good start. I take her back to change her diaper and she turns into a screaming banchi, kicking and arching her back, flailing her limbs in a desperate attempt to get off the table. This is new. I wrestle her diaper off and two huge chunks of poop flip onto the table and her legs. I fly through a pile of wipes trying to clean her up but only manage to smear it all over the place. There's poop on her leggings, on her onesie, on her dress, and on the table. I see a green bean and wonder...did that come from her lunch today or yesterday?

With one hand keeping Alice on her back, I reach over for a clean diaper and they're all gone. Aargh! So, knowing I'd have to let her go in order to get more diapers (they're just hanging out in the other room) I take off her clothes. I thought it would prevent the poop from spreading further, which it did, but it also made her cold which tends to make her empty her bladder. So she's standing there, buck naked, watching all that urine pour down her legs. I sigh and clean it up, then decide to MacGyver a diaper from the materials I had on hand at the changing table. She had just peed and pooped, so what more could she do? I fold a burp cloth in a diaper cover and call it good. She screams and kicks until the diaper is on and then she's all sweetness.

I put her down on the floor so I can clean up the changing table. She walks right over to the hallway wall where a small chunk of poop had apparently escaped her diaper. I get there first...just barely...and have to pick it up with my bare hands before Alice does.

With the table finally clean, I go get the diapers from the other room and fold them in preparation for the next changing. I finish folding the last one and turn to see Alice covered in milk. She had rediscovered her sippy cup from lunch (it was still on her high chair tray) and decided to finish her milk. She's not the neatest drinker, especially when she's not really that thirsty, so half of it ends up on her chin, bare chest, hands, arms, and legs. I sigh and clean it up, leaving Alice in the living room while I wash out the rag in the kitchen sink. When I return to the living room, my neat pile of folded diapers has been transformed into a smothered heap of cloth and Alice is literally swinging one of them over her head.

You may be wondering what I did at that point. My first thought surprised me, "Don't scream. Take a time out." I took a deep breath and sat down on the floor next to the pile of diapers. Then I thought, "How does this happen? How can things go from normal to out of control in a matter of seconds?"

The rest of the story: I refold the diapers and dress Alice in some clean clothes. Alice poops in her jerry-rigged diaper, I change another screaming and kicking baby, put her down for a nap, finish my lunch, and enjoy an hour of quiet time for myself...and laundry.