A Mommy Story

I believe I once said I loved snow, and that if it was going to be cold, I’d rather it be cold with snow. Well, I’ve changed my mind, or at least modified my opinion to exclude years when I’m pregnant.

Going anywhere this weekend was trying at best, thanks to all of the snow and ice. We received another 2-3″ of snow on Saturday, which provided some traction, but mostly served to obscure the ice underneath. By this point, many places of business had given up on trying to clear their parking lots and sidewalks, and simply hoped their customers wouldn’t fall and break a bone. I had no choice but to be out in it, as I had to work on Saturday, and had class on Sunday.

I’ve also changed my opinion on the advantages of being pregnant in the winter. When we discussed trying for baby #2, part of our timing involved the decision that it might be better for me to be pregnant during colder months, avoiding the heat of the summer like last time. (Cordy was born in September.) Having been through only one month of trying to keep my off-balanced self upright on the snow and ice, I’m starting to think my judgement was wrong. Sweating and swelling from the heat seem pretty insignificant right now. Then again, it’s always greener on the other side of the fence, right?

Aaron spent most of the weekend at a stage combat workshop he and a friend were hosting for local actors. With both of our schedules being busy, babysitting was needed for Cordy, which proved to be difficult. It seems everyone had something to do. Luckily, one of my aunts stepped in to watch Cordy for a little while both days.

On Saturday, we learned an important lesson: Cordy may like Mexican food, but it doesn’t like her. My aunt had taken her to a local Mexican restaurant, and she said Cordy loved munching on tortilla chips and ate most of a cheese quesadilla. When I came home from work, Cordy was already napping. But the nap didn’t last long before I heard her making whimpering noises. I went in to get her and, as is often the case with a baby poop story, the smell hit me first. I then noticed her pants were wet, and the sheet was stained. (Warning: the next paragraph is the graphic one. Sensitive stomachs may choose to skip it.)

Holding her out at arms length, I took her downstairs to clean her up. At first, I thought it was only a small diaper blowout. But as I laid her down on the changing pad, I heard a loud squish. This was not going to go well. Turns out, her thick sweatshirt was hiding the true nature of this pooptastrophe. This wasn’t a small blowout – we’re talking Category 5 blowout here. She had poop nearly up to her neck in the back, up her belly in the front, and oozing down her legs to her socks. While I was disgusted, it was hard not to be impressed, too: how did that much poop come out of someone so small?. Surely she lost a pound or two from that experience.

I did what damage control I could with wipes, then moved her to the bathtub. After a full scrub-down, I changed the bath water and let her play while throwing her clothing, the crib sheet, the one toy that didn’t survive the blast, and even the plastic changing pad into the washer. All is now sanitized again.

Or at least it was until this morning. After the Mexican incident, Cordy wasn’t interested in eating much. So she went on a self-imposed, mostly liquid diet, wanting only juice, milk, and the occasional PB&J sandwich. As you can guess, that caught up to her today. Thankfully, I wasn’t on duty for this pooptastrophe. Since it’s President’s Day, Aaron has the day off work, which means he gets to experience what I go through two days a week relax at home with Cordy.