Henry has been doing this awesome thing where he sleeps through the night. And I'm talking, 7 hours straight, wakes up to eat, and then another 3 hours. Yes, I know, we are very lucky. We actually have dreams at night now, which I guess doesnt happen if you dont sleep more than an hour in a row. Oh to dream again...
With the arrival of these new sleeping patterns comes a consequence. It was too good to be true. Let's just say, Henry isn't pooping at night anymore because he is sleeping so well, so his first poop of the day is usually around noon. You'll understand the significance of the whole no-night-pooping and first-poop-at-noon thing once I share with you an experience I won't ever forget.
Last week we decided to take Henry to lunch with us to meet up with a good friend who, after 10 weeks, had yet to meet our little dude. We're enjoying our lunch at Sharkeys, seriously delicious nachos, when Henry spits up a little bit while James is holding him. Henry is getting really fussy and James notices that both of their shirts are wet, we figure it's from the spit up and possibly that he peed out his diaper. So James and I bring the diaper bag to the 1-person bathroom to change his diaper and clothes. The bathroom doesn't have one of the baby changing tables. Ugh. I bite the bullet and we decide to use our changing mat and put it on the floor...my poor child, so close to this disgusting bathroom floor. But we had no other option. We unbutton his romper and what we find is poop all over his little body. Up his back almost to his neck, on his tummy, and on his legs. It was absolutely insane. We looked at eachother like we were about to go skydiving -- a look of disbelief. Is this really happening? Can I bail on this whole situation right now? --
We get the outfit off, and as we pull it over his head more poop is getting smeared onto his body. We are being extremely generous with our wipe usage, getting him cleaned up, getting ourselves cleaned up, all the while a damn fly keeps buzzing around my kids bare, poopy butt. Poor child. And whoever said that newborns poop doesnt smell...that's got to be some sort of a myth. After ten minutes of James and I fumbling around trying to get this situation cleaned up, keeping Henry from squirming off of the changing mat onto the horrible bathroom floor, swatting away the fiesty flies, we emerged. Stronger than we entered. With images we won't ever forget...not only because they were so...unhumanely, but because the same thing happened the two days following.
The moral of the story is...when you don't poop at night, and your first poop is at noon, the mass of the poop being expelled, and the force with which it is being expelled, leads to some unbelievable velocity. Because I think that is what physics says happens...and because I am grasping to any last remnants of intelligence left in my mushy mom brain.
This is the sweet, sweet face that made that monstrosity of a blow out.