Wednesday, December 15, 2021

The Wrath of the Diaper Gods

 It's official. I have been smote by the diaper gods for my pridefullness. 

E is at the age where blowouts are pretty frequent. No matter how careful with diaper positioning and configuration (wings out, no accidental folds), she wiggles and poops a lot, hence, blowout city.

Yesterday morning I got her up, changed her, paying attention to properly securing her diaper, and fed her. Then, as she sat on my lap and I attempted to burp her, I felt it: the type of seismic rumbling that means baby will need a new diaper ASAP. Before I could even stand, my nose confirmed what my hand had suspected, that my dainty little girl had created the kind of poo that would likely require a bath, followed by a change of diaper (hers) and outfit (hers and mine)!

When we reached her changing table and I examined her clothing, I was stunned to find no yellow anywhere. The diaper had held. In my mind, I immediately started congratulating myself. "Oh yeah! You rock. You can diaper like a pro. That's a diaper of the week award there!" I told myself.

I carefully placed a clean diaper under the old one, then unfastened it. I have never before seen a diaper so full - front, back, side to side, completely filled. In my head, my cocky self-accolades grew louder. "Look at that. That's diaper of the month. Diaper of the year!"

I grabbed her feet and lifted her bottom, while pulling the old diaper out and away from her. After setting it carefully away from her kicking range, I began reaching for a wipe when she decided to pee. Niagra Falls has nothing on my sweetie. The torrent was unstoppable. It overflowed the clean diaper under her. It saturated her outfit, the changing pad, the changing table, and my sleeve. And although it was "just" pee, since I hadn't wiped her yet and she was covered in poo, all that residue washed away in the pee deluge, leaving yellow lakes everywhere it touched. The adorable outfit I'd been so happy to see clean moments earlier? Now a sodden yellow mess. 

Thus, let me say, "I hear you, Diaper Gods. I bow before you at the altar of the diaper pail. Never again will I be cocky, lest I need to do more time in the confessional of the laundry sink, speaking to the priests of Oxyclean."

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