Ah, the dangers of complacency... I have become so accustomed to my daughter's irregular (har har) pooping habits that I often leave the house without diaper bag in tow. Oh, I take a clean diaper, because the vast majority of her diaper changes require no other stuff. Fatal flaw!
So we go tonight to the Sharfman's end-of-the-year banquet, which was very exciting for me since I go every year, but this was the first year I went with my husband, since he's on staff there now. Needless to say, the little critter came with us too.
Did I read the signs? Of course not. Besides the fact that Murphy's law says, "When you go to another city sans diaper bag, you will regret it," I had noticed that my daughter's tummy was making very grown up gurgly noises this afternoon, and that she seemed a bit uncomfortable, arching her back and being a little fussy, but I did not attribute any special meaning to it.
Well. Lemme tell ya... The skits begin, Yoav and I are sitting watching them, and she's on my lap. She starts to fuss, so I get up and am standing in the kitchen just off the main room, so I can still hear and watch but I can pace without disturbing anyone.
And then the multisensory experience began. It was like an ad for a b-film...
HEAR the telltale wet explosive sound!
SMELL the distinctive (rather cute) poop smell!
FEEL the sensation of something moving - wait, why do I feel it down her leg? And....
SEE the puddle of poop on the floor of the kitchen!!
(fortunately, we forwent (forgoed?) taste on this one)
Indeed, she pooped a mighty poop that exited her diaper leg (must sue the Huggies people), traveled down her pants, saturated her sock and left a puddle on the floor.
Was she making an editorial comment? Did she not enjoy the skits? Did she want to poop where no one has pooped before? We may never know.
And and and I have no diaper bag (so no wipes, no mat, no spare outfit, nada). And and and the stuff I do have is across the room, meaning I'd have to walk across the whole skit-in-progress, and I've got a dripping, aromatic baby in my arms. And and and and AND she's a-starting to cry, cause heck, wouldn't you?
Because Hashem loves me, Nechy was sitting just outside (Yoav was much further away, and frankly, Nechy's had more experience here). I called her in and bless her heart, she flew into action. First, she got paper towels and wiped up the floor (I will not of course mention what she asked, which was if my daughter had had split pea soup for dinner - far too tasteless for this forum). She went and got my spare diaper and a burp cloth and blanket. We get the tochter's clothes off (they're all filthy), lay her down on the cloth, wipe her down with toilet paper (did I mention she's screaming by now?), get her clean diaper on her, throw the clothes, etc, into a plastic bag. Someone else comes in and swaddles her in the blanket, poor naked baby. Someone else (R'Sharfman's daughter who just had a baby, hurray!) calls home for wipes and a new outfit.
So relying on the kindness of strangers (hardly strangers, actually), she got changed and eventually redressed and eventually fed (okay, that part I took care of myself).
We got home some time later. Our borrowed outfit stayed clean (whew!), but her tummy was still grumbling. She ate some more, took a leisurely bath, got into clean clothes, promptly spit up on them (ANOTHER puddle on the floor!), ate again, and went to bed, poor tuckered out little thing. That was about 40 minutes ago, and I have recovered my equalibrium with the help of leftover corn beef on whole wheat (highly recommended), and only two cookies (or was it three?).
So, what upset her tummy? Either it's cause I've had a bit of Splenda in the last couple days, or it's the ton of roasted vegetables I had for lunch (or, mayhaps, the kohlrabi that was in the veggies, that I haven't had that since she was born). So I will try to cut out both for the next couple of days, and see if things improve.
Here's a picture of the two of us doing laundry earlier today, before all this excitement! The pooped on clothes (and it was one of her cutest outfits too!) are soaking in hot water, and hopefully will only need three washes in the machine (the average for pooped on clothes) to get back to their normal pink color.
How come no one makes brown baby clothes?
Tomorrow we hopefully have an appointment with a specialist in the neighborhood purported to have great success with babies who have nursing 'issues.' So we'll see what she says and does and hopefully by this time tomorrow (wait, isn't it tomorrow already?) her intake and output will be streamlined and more fun for the whole family.
Okay, four cookies, but I'm stopping here.