Friday, September 4, 2009

Adventures in babyland

A 24-hour milk bar: That's what I feel like, an all night freaking diner. My little man never wants to breastfeed unless it's the middle of the night. I don't get it. During daylight hours he rarely will latch on so I have to pump or supplement with formula, but as soon as the sun goes down... whoa buddy. I might as well put blinking neon lights on both nipples. I guess Baby R just likes his boobies at night - I wonder what the likelyhood will be that he will frequent strip clubs when he's older?

And now for a poop story (or two) since it's been a while since I last grossed other people out with one. I bought R some Sesame Street bubble bath last week and she thinks it's the greatest thing ever. Can't say I blame her. Bubble baths are pretty fabulous. But I digress. Last night during her bath, I took the opportunity to let her play for a few minutes after she was washed while I changed out my nursing pads and whatnot. She passed some gas and then some more and then informed me, "poop poop". I looked and didn't see anything so I told her that no, she'd just tooted. I grabbed her towel to get her out and again she tells me "poop poop". I turn around and out comes her little hand from admist the bubbles and she definitely has a fistful of poo in it. Uuuuuuugggggh. I got it and her all cleaned up and sanitized the hell out of our tub, but still. Lesson learned. She told me she was going and I didn't believe her.

As if that wasn't, um, crappy enough (har har), I took Baby R to bed with me last night (he won't sleep unless he's held... *sigh*) and after he'd gone to sleep, put him in his Boppy. I'd just started to drift off into the nice deep sleep where I'm drooling on my pillow when he wakes up and starts fussing. I could hear and smell him farting, but I wasn't too concerned because my newborn has some of the rankest gas I have ever had the displeasure of being downwind of in my entire life. When he was done with this grunting and pffft'ing, I went to pick him up.... and stuck my hand in a big wet pile of runny shit. Seriously. Could I not get a break???? I yelled for DH who was luckily still up watching TV and he came in the room to help minimize the damage. It was all over our sheets, Baby R's Boppy, his pajamas, him, me. It was effing disgusting to say the least. I wound up having to give him a bath at 1am. The joys of parenthood never end, I swear.

So today's goal is not having to clean up any poo where it's not supposed to be. So far so good. Let's hope the trend continutes.....

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