Our bedroom carpet is now the proud bearer of a stain with a story. Strike that. It was more like an adventure in learning what tiny babies are capable of in the wee hours of the morning.
It started when hubby Cam got up at dawn to go biking. Things like this only happen when he’s gone.
Chloe, nuzzled close to me in bed, started to stir. I promptly sat up and tried to nurse her, hoping to stave off any cries so she wouldn’t wake her brother.
It worked for a minute or two, but she kept popping off my breast. Through bleary eyes, I decided she was gassy. I quit nursing her and sat her up, alternately rubbing her belly and moving her legs up and down.
I like to think my actions helped because she promptly tooted and grimaced up a storm. One of the rumbles was so long and forceful, I was sure she’d pooped.
Sometimes there’s a time and place for ignoring a poopy diaper, but in bed with me isn’t one of them.
I rolled out of bed and laid her on the changing table. I didn’t turn on a light since the morning sun was just beginning to creep in.
Off came the pajama legs. Off came the diaper. Up went her legs. Then, in the split second it took me to grab the clean diaper I’d already laid out, Chloe took aim and fired.
Holy good gosh crap.
It’s not that I didn’t think there was force behind her poo. It’s just that seeing it spray clear over the edge of the changing table, across five feet of carpet, and straight into the bookshelf was something I never thought possible.
And she did it all with very little outward effort.
I literally began laughing and crying at the same time. It was all over from there. Caden woke up thanks to the hubbub. Chloe kept right on shooting since I was in too much shock to cover her squirty little bottom. Everything in her path was compromised.
Even though I eventually snapped out of it, cleaned and covered her, and got to work on the rest of the mess, we have a permanent stain on the carpet to remind me of our little dawn adventure.