Poo. Taylor calculated that since Seth was born, I've changed over 2000 diapers, so a post on this topic was inevitable. Seth has this new habit of having a dirty diaper a couple hours after going to bed. Now he is an excellent sleeper (post on this to come), and said poo is discovered by sleepy parents who are checking on him one last time before they go to bed. However, we cannot bear to let him sleep in it all night. And the possibility of it waking him up
after we have gone to bed for the night is not a risk we're willing to take. It's hard enough to change a diaper without a foggy brain. It would be easier to just let him sleep, and pray it didn't wake him up, but as his parents, we're not willing to let him stay in the
mire as it were. Sounds like another Father I know.
I have tried everything to deter this stinky habit. And by everything I mean I give him bananas as part of his dinner. Apparently he now has no problem digesting bananas. And I am willing to bet that if I knew more about science, then I would understand why this doesn't work.
So at 10 pm, after Seth has been sound asleep for 3 hours and that tell-tale smell is wafting into the hallway, Taylor and I rock, paper, scissors* who gets to be the one to pick up our peacefully sleepy baby and subject him to cold wet wipes** and a probable pajama change (we're in desperate need of a pee pee tee-pee - those of you with boys know what I'm talking about.). This whole scenario is not a pretty sight. Peacefully sleeping baby turns into a wriggling/screaming baby that isn't excited to go back to bed.
We've tried all sorts of methods to make this experience less harrowing for all involved: having paci*** handy, keeping the lights off, and wearing a head lamp. So neighbors, if you see a small red light coming from our window between 10 and 11 pm, there isn't a sniper rifle trained on you, Seth is just getting his diaper changed.
Last night, I lost the farkle. I went in as armed as possible. I was determined not to have to change his pajamas in addition to the diaper. My arsenal was made up of paci, two flashlights, the head lamp, and a lot of kleenex to act as make shift tee-pee (again, my science is lacking).
I carefully picked him up out of his crib, gingerly laid him on the changing table, and popped the paci in his mouth, successfully keeping him asleep. The bigger instrument for waking baby was yet to come. The cold wet wipes.
I set up the flashlights, put on the head lamp, pulled out about a million wipes from the box, and began my mission. I quickly ditched the head lamp as I thought about how freaky it would be to wake up to someone staring down at you with a red light beaming from their forehead. Good thing because immediately after beginning the process of changing the diaper, Seth's eyes popped open and paci popped out. I frantically grasped for paci at the same time Seth grabbed ahold of one of the flashlights. I held my breath and waited for the inevitable screaming to commence, but something had caught his attention. He was fascinated by the wrist band connected to the end. Seeing how he now had the light perfectly aimed for me to be able to see what I was doing, I took this once in a lifetime opportunity and changed that diaper faster than you can say poo. Sorry, I couldn't resist.
Seth did not cry during the diaper change, no one got tinkled on, and he went back to bed after giving me a smile and rolling over on his side.
Angel Baby indeed!
Not to over-spiritualize this, but I got to thinking. How much easier is it to let our Father deal with our sin than to fight Him as he cleans us up?
All I know is once we let Him deal with the mess, we're more likely to wake up like this in the morning:
*I will now on refer to this as farkling because it's shorter, and according to T Bar M, that is what it's called.
** And no, due to my hyper-first time parent, rule following tendencies, we do not have a wipe warmer because to me:
paper+electricity=bad idea
***aka pacifier, dummy, nuk etc
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