Right on cue, she stirred. Whenever she wakes up on her own and is not rudely awakened, she is usually in a smiley and happy demeanor (just like her mum). Yup, this time, she was smiley. We giggled our way to the kitchen after a diaper change, oblivious to the impending catastrophe.
As I prepared my lunch, I looked over to smile at her and saw her give a "I am trying to poop" face. Something that looks kinda cross eyed with a lop-sided smile... Then, an extremely audible watery fart thundered across the kitchen.
I stared at my uncooked spinach and contemplated for a second. Sorry, my ravenous digestive juices, lunch would have to wait. I promptly scooped her up from her high chair, about fifteen seconds since her ominous fart. I checked her back and saw the dreaded poop stain. It was spreading gradually, ugh, like a plague. Gross. We have to hurry.
As we made our way to the changing area, I quickly grabbed the more-easily-washable mat from the guest bath. Then, I felt something dripped on my arms. Please let that be her drool, I thought, as I balanced the baby and the changing mat precariously.
I desperately ripped the towel cover from the inflatable changing mat (easier to clean the inflatable changing mat without the cover) and carefully plopped her down to survey the damage. There was poop on her entire back and also her sides. Oh, and the "drool" on my arms turned out to be poop as well. Such joys of motherhood.
I grabbed the bag of wet wipes and crazily began wiping her back, right up to her neck. God, how on earth does this poop travel up to her neck? It was a few wipes on her butt, then her back, then the changing mat so that she would not have more poop as she rested on the mat, then her butt again, then her arms, then her toes. I looked up to chastise her for her pooping ability (probably inherited from her dad) and saw, to my horror, she has grabbed one of the soiled wipes and put it in her mouth. Oh, and she was smiling as if to say "Hi mummy, look what I have gotten in my mouth!"
I grabbed the soiled wipe from her hands and included her mouth area in my wiping frenzy. Butt, back, hands, arms, stomach, legs, toes, mouth. Repeat x 10,000. Then, I lifted the soiled jumper with a little finger and turned on the tap at full blast. Die! You poopies! Die!
Subsequently, I dressed her and we went back to the kitchen where I could hopefully get on with my lunch.
So, I prepared lunch. Baby was contented. La la la, everything was great. Then, baby drooled and I looked for a burp towel to wipe her up (lots of wiping in the job of a mother). In my search, I saw yellow goo on the floor and parts of the high chair. God, the poop has spread to the floors too! I have only just mopped the floors this morning. I went into a wiping frenzy again. The wet wipes company must love me.
Finally, after another million wipes, I had lunch, trying to regain an appetite from dealing with so much poop. Naomi stared at me, doe-eyed, and I decided she must be hungry. She took to the bottle readily and after ten minutes, she began to look cross-eyed again.
Oh no, you don't, I began. My warnings were ignored and she let rip a symphony of rather-wet farts. I quickly grabbed her and ran into the room to check - phew, this time, the poop was contained. We had a swift change of diaper, requiring only a tenth of the wipes previously used.
We went back to the kitchen. I cleared my lunch which was by now apparently unappealing. It is a conspiracy to make me lose weight probably. Naomi started fussing a little, so we adjourned to her room where she could have some gym time. She quickly rolled over to her tummy the moment she was placed on her gym. Before I could adjust her to a more comfortable position, she let out a series of loud farts, more forceful than before. I gave up procrastinating about her bath. It must be a sign that I (and not her dad) have to bathe her today. I was secretly hoping he would come home and assume the bath duty.
And that was how the biggest poopsaster went - Naomi's poopy hat trick in a matter of an hour. Yippee!
