But yet poo disasters continue to haunt me...
I had been having some tough nights (I can see why sleep deprivation is a form of torture). With Mabel currently getting up between 5.30 and 6.00 it can sometimes mean I don't get back to sleep after Wilf's third night feed about 4 ish. Hard going man.
Anyway as a result I have been lazily changing his nappy on my knee in bed after feeding him. This has been fine, I am speedy and adept at such a manoeuvre since I tend to do it this way through the day also.
But yes with a boy I am playing wee roulette.
One night last week as changing him about 2am he did some huge trumps. So I held back a moment, cautious about taking the old nappy off. A minute or so later I ploughed on and somehow, no idea how, just at the moment that I did said switch a huge trump came out accompanied by a a stream of poster paint poo. Onto the bed. Onto the bed which OCD G Kisby was also in. Onto the bed right about the area of the duvet nearest my head. Oh no. Oh big fat no.
I acted fast and put the new nappy on anyway to catch the now river of poo that was coming but unfortunately that just spread the offending poo patch out underneath. There was nothing for it, I had to wake G Kisby up and confess. We had a tired and irritable conversation along the lines of,
"I've got a bit of an issue...there is poo on the bed"
"Right" pauses and sits up with slight look of despair
"What do u want me to do to help?"
"Don't know. What do u think?"
"How bad is it? Want me to lift up Wilf?"
"Well you could but then the nappy underneath is covered..."
"So what then?" sigh now audible
"Er don't know, we are in a bit of a mess"
"Oh my god, pass me the baby..."
"Just watch out for the wipe..." I tried as he scooped Wilf up holding him at arms length and whisked out the room. Luckily he didn't notice the wipe I had used to try and clean the spillage then fly off and land on another part of the bed (his side) in the process.
Then, on a separate occasion, I took a call from someone very senior in work who was wanting to congratulate me on having a baby. Wilf was on my shoulder at the time and decided he would push a poo out using his normal ridiculously loud levels of strain. I felt wet on my hand so couldn't move him as I squirmed at how this must sound down the other end of the phone. The noises reached a crescendo with me ending up leaning my body and the phone as far away as possible and in the in the end having to actually say (because it was becoming embarrassing),
"Ooh I think he needs a nappy change".
However, on a nicer note our gorgeous boy turned a month old last week. We have decided to do a photo on the same day every month, with the same toy, tracking him changing both in size (please no) but also how he plays with his toy - Pierre the duck.
I think he likes it!