...if only I didn't have to take my beloved rotten children with me.
(Alternate Title: My Own Unintentional Personal Testimony to Bad Mothering)
SCENE, YESTERDAY AFTERNOON, ABOUT 24 HOURS AFTER I WARNED JASON ABOUT THE IMPORTANCE OF NOT PUTTING THE BABY TO BED IN JUST A DIAPER, AS HE'S BEEN GETTING A LITTLE GRABBY WITH THE VELCRO TABS ON HIS SUPER-FANCY CLOTH DIAPERS, AND ABOUT TWO HOURS AFTER I PUT HIM DOWN FOR A NAP WEARING ONLY A TOO-SMALL DISPOSABLE DIAPER BECAUSE I DIDN'T FEEL LIKE RETRIEVING A SUPER-FANCY CLOTH DIAPER FROM THE DRYER ALL THE WAY DOWNSTAAAAAIRS WAAAAHHHH I'M TIRED
I heard Ezra stirring in his crib and I went immediately to collect him waited until he sounded good and mad before getting up off the couch.
I walked into his room. His diaper was off. There was...oh my God. Everything. Both. Everywhere. The sheets were soaked in three distinct places. And the...yeah. All over the sheets, the crib, THE BABY. The baby who lifted his head and beamed ear-to-ear when he saw his loving fucking horrified mother and that's when I saw the poop all over his FACE and immediately rushed over to rescue the poor thing from the filth turned and left the room to go back downstairs, sat back down on the couch and felt sorry for myself. And then I told Twitter about it.
When I returned, I was better prepared to properly deal with the situation. Because this time I had my phone. I took a picture and promptly emailed it to Jason with the subject line: YOU NEED TO COME HOME RIGHT THIS MINUTE. I QUIT.
Two baths...TWO baths were required. (Helpful Hint: Don't forget to check behind the ears!) The good news is that I finally had a good reason to finally get around to finally removing those terribly dangerous crib bumpers that I wasn't supposed to ever have on in the first place, I KNOW, but I've just been so terribly BUSY. Rest assured that the bumpers are off and firmly in the category of Things We Shall Never Speak Of Again. because even though cloth diapering has given me a stronger stomach for this sort of thing, there are just some indignities from which fabric and padding cannot ever recover. Sorry, Wendy. You had a good run.
Luckily, the baby is even cuter than an old hand-me-down bedding set, so he can stay.