Baby Got Back!

There is an unfortunate thing that a lot of women struggle with whenever shopping for jeans (or most pants, for that matter...but jeans are the worst). In order to fit the largest part of them, the waistline if often too big and creates a "gap" in the back that can be immodest and a little drafty. This is especially bad for women who have, what is lovingly referred to as "back".

My 11-month old son has "back". He is shaped in such a way that no matter what size and what brand of diaper I have put on him, there is a gap in the back that let's all manner of things escape. No amount of Huggies' "Gigalastic" has contained his business. It nearly always goes up his back, and if we're really lucky, it pops right out onto the floor. This morning I made Elijah's breakfast, set it down in front of him, and went to get Micah, so I could put him in his high chair and feed him while his brother ate. Before I could do that, I saw that we were on the verge of a containment failure. Something very ugly and very stinky was peeking up at me from the back of the diaper. I carried him by the underarms to his changing table while debating what to do. If I laid him down on the table, all of the ugliness was going to be squished right out onto everything. I had to come up with a Plan B.

There are moments in life when you think you've had a stroke of brilliance, only to realize, moments later, that you were wrong. Very, very wrong. This has never been more true in my life than since I became a parent. Things that I thought would be fun for my boys turned out to scare them, or create gigantic messes. Things that I thought would be good disciplinary tactics only ended up punishing me. This morning I had a light bulb go on over my head as I rushed into the nursery. "I will take his diaper off while he is standing up!", I thought. Yes, it would be awkward, and yes it could be a little messy, but it would be the lesser of two evils.

So I set about my task. I stood him up on the changing table and leaned him against my chest as I undid the velcro tape holding the diaper and all of it's contents in place. The diaper fell to the changing table. The contents did not. They stayed right where they were, stuck to his behind. That was alright....all I needed was about 500 diaper wipes and this would still turn out OK. It was right about that time that someone turned on the music. Not the music in the nursery. The music in my son's head. He decided it was time to dance. He got his groove on and shook what the good Lord gave him all while holding on to my shoulders. There is no way for me to describe the next part delicately. The feces flew. On the table, on the floor, on the window sill that is directly behind the table, on me. I had no choice but to just go into damage control mode. I needed to clean him up the best I could as he boogied away. What he had shared with the rest of the room would have to wait until I was done with him.

Once his tush was cleaned and diapered, and I had sufficiently rid his feet of all he had stepped in, I set out with several handfuls of Lysol wipes (praise God for Lysol wipes!) to disinfect the area. Micah sat on the floor and clapped while I worked. He had apparently enjoyed himself immensely. I'm glad I could oblige him...