Saturday, January 30, 2010

Ready, Aim, Poop!

“Ready, aim, fire!” I’m convinced that if my daughter could talk, she’d be saying that phrase every time I change her diaper.

During her week-long stay in the hospital, she successfully pooped on my mom, my husband, the nurses, and me. She’s a pro at fooling people into thinking she’s done pooping. She’ll let out a bunch of grunts, accomplish a few good poop explosions, and everything will be calm for quite awhile. “Time to change her diaper,” we’d all think.

The unsuspecting victim would calmly slide a new diaper underneath her, undo the dirty diaper, and get ready to wipe. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the changer would feel a warm, wet spray, and her hands would be covered with mustardy goo.

It was funny at first. Now that I often change her on our bed, however, it the laughter has turned to fear. I have enough to do during my day without having to add “wash sheets and comforter” to the list.

I suppose I could be better prepared. I could change her on a changing table, or lay a blanket underneath her to protect the bedding. I could always have a diaper partially covering her in case of an aftershock.

No matter how many precautions I take, however, there are always a few moments when I am utterly vulnerable. These are moments when she is in prime launching position, when all odds are in the favor of a successful mustard attack.

These are the moments when I’m holding both of her legs up in the air and I’m ready to wipe.

There’s nothing protecting me during these moments, and there’s no way around them. I have to lift her behind up in the air to be sure I’ve completely cleaned it. I can’t cover it up or I won’t be able to see if I’ve missed anything. I can’t keep my face partially turned away, or I won’t be able to get a good view. No, I have to face my fears, and allow myself to be in the most dangerous position possible.

I think she can sense my nervousness. Sometimes she lets a little gas escape, just to keep me on my toes. Every now and then, she’ll sneeze, making me cringe in anticipation of what the force of the sneeze might push out the other end.

Rent a suspense-filled movie on a Friday night? Nah. We’ve got diaper changing to keep us at the edge of our seats.

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