Two kids in our bed
One saturated diaper
“There’s a pee spot here”
Ahhh, Sunday morning. Before kids it consisted of sleeping in until at least 10am, followed by a leisurely breakfast and coffee – unless there were hangovers involved, in which case, Mickey D’s for the win! – and then usually some kind of errands or maybe we would write the whole day off and complete a marathon. On Netflix. Duh.
Those were the days.
This morning, like most Sundays since our kids left my birth canal (TMI? Well they did. So… I’m just speaking my truth, okay?), Zach and I attempted to stay in bed as long as our children would let us. This game begins when the baby monitor turns on for the first time, and one of us stumbles out of bed to retrieve our least favourite child that day. Kidding. They are both equally alright.
Now, before today, I was under the impression there was an understanding between Zach and I that we change the kids when we first get them up. That’s what I did this morning with our daughter, Emerson, minutes after Zach returned and snuggled into the bed with our son, Jacob.
So both of the kids were in bed with us at this point. Emerson announced she was hungry, or rather she garbled as almost-two-year-olds do in their native language, Toddler-ese, “Hung-ah?!”, and I got up for the second time to get her the fastest, most convenient means of sustenance with the highest percent chance of consumption, a food pouch.
When I handed her the pouch and pulled the duvet back up over me, there was a wafting that occurred, and so commenced the beginning of the end of my slow Sunday morning.
“Is that poop? I smell poop.”
“I don’t smell anything,” Zach mumbled.
“Huh, okay.” I was both cautious but relieved I didn’t have to get up again to retrieve a clean diaper.
I sank back into the humble luxury of our mail ordered mattress watching Emerson quickly devour her coconut, goji berry, some other kind of “healthy-shit-I’d-never-be-bothered-to-purchase-myself-and-blend-into-homemade-apple-sauce” ingredient, and I was quietly thrilled that it was after 8am on a Sunday and that we were still in bed. A real treat. Still though, I caught a whiff.
“Zach, you really don’t smell that?”
“Well, that’s probably because your fan is blowing all the stink away from you directly into my face. As usual,” I couldn’t let it go.
“Why does everyone else in this house but me get a free pass on farting?”
I rolled my eyes as Zach shifted himself and Jacob over a bit.
“Oh… his diaper is leaking.” Zach paused, “Yah, there’s a pee spot here. HA!” My dear, dear husband looked at me with his best “Oh shit, you were right, but I’m not gonna admit it, just please don’t call me out for it” smiling expression, and I let out an exasperated sigh.
“Just pee?” I silently threw up a prayer.
“Just pee, yup.” PHEW.
I reluctantly went downstairs seeing as how I was most recently up out of bed and not fully relaxed or underneath a four month old, and I got the necessities required for changing a diaper.
Back upstairs I positioned my completely content and cooing son in front of me on our bed, very aware of our toddler’s whereabouts so if necessary my ninja mom skills could intervene any flailing limbs from crushing the youngest member of our family.
“HOLY, his jammies are soaked!” The whole front of his pyjama onesie was damp and cold, “I didn’t realize it was that bad, I didn’t bring up new jammies!”
“Just let him be a nakey baby,” Zach replied. Jacob wasn’t bothered by this idea whatsoever and continued smiling away, just happy to be with everyone. I opened the diaper.
“ARGH! AWwww, MAN! There IS poop in here!” I glared at Zach as I hurriedly started to wipe down our baby. I wasn’t giving him a pass this time though, “I told you I smelled poop!”
“I didn’t smell anything!!!” Zach shouted, now laughing at me and the situation I was in, “Man you’re dramatic sometimes!” I ignored his feigned revelation as I wrapped up the shockingly heavy and soiled diaper.
“Guess we’re washing the sheets today?” Zach asked.
“Yah, I guess so.”
[Full disclosure – “we” totally didn’t end up washing the sheets today. I’ll do it soon…ish. Yup, maybe you think that’s kind of gross, but then chances are you aren’t a parent used to having their children’s bodily fluids on them. I hate laundry more than I hate baby pee. Don’t @ me.]