[Instant message from 8.21.08]
So, I changed J.D. after I fed him a bottle. He smelled like a fresh duke, but alas, there was no poop. About 3 minutes later, however, the smell of freshly pressed baby crap wafted through the air. So I was changing him, and discovered on the second wipe that I only had two wipes. Grrrrrreat, as Tony would say. I got him pretty clean by frugal wipeage. Then he turned over.
And I saw a nice big smear of shite on the changing pad cover. What’s the word for being completely shocked and totally pissed off at the same time?
I folded up the pad cover and threw it down the stairs, only to have it open in mid flight and land poop side down. Awesome. I flung open the baby gate, locked it behind me, and marched down the steps. A slightly bewildered boy followed me and sat in our doorway, watching me. When I pounded my frustrated feet back up the stairs from the baby storage area (aka, what used to be a garage), I came upon the same naked little boy.
He was in almost the same place, but now there was a large puddle in the carpet right in the middle of our doorway [I don’t remember whether I laughed or cried, or both, at that moment.].
Anyway, I got Mr. pissy, poopy, fussy pants changed, finally. And it became very clear to me that J.D.'s fussy-ness for most of the day had prevented me from making lunch. That would explain daddy's pissy-ness, and the inevitable mess on top of mess, on top of mess. Ugh.
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Those are the golden moments, aren't they? Though I was tired and frustrated that day, I laughed when I heard my own story. Jonathan has done a good job of teaching me that the unpredictability of little ones is quite inconvenient, but that their unpredictability is also a big part of what makes them so delightful. Even so, I have to admit that I've had to learn that lesson over and over. Life would get pretty boring--lifeless--if it stayed predictable all the time.
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