Bean hasn't been sleeping well this week: his teeth bother him, and then he insists on rolling over while he's still asleep, which makes him furious. Lather, rinse, repeat at least 3x a night. It's not pretty.
This morning, he was going for 4, and I'm on single-parent duty (Paul left on Tues. for final interviews). I willed my son to close his eyes and stop crying. My inner voice begged him to just give me 30 more minutes of the crappy sleep that seems to be our new norm. But he wouldn't. "No way, Mom! I flipped over onto my stomach again and I'm mad about it, sofixitrightnow!"
Ugh. I creep over the the pack n play, all the while thinking to myself, "This had better be good. You better really need me this time."
And need me, he did.
POOPOCALYPSE. Everywhere. So.much.poop.
Soaked the blankets and sheets, through his soaked onesie, up his back, in his hair.
I just grabbed him and headed to the bathroom, where I stripped him down and proceeded to spread the poo to even further reaches of his body. And the countertop. And the baby bathtub.
In desperation, I scrub him down with baby shampoo in his bathtub and then turn on my faucet and rinse him while he hangs over our own tub. He is furious. So so furious.
Until I put a new diaper on him and get his clothes for the day. I earned a smile.
"Thanks, Mom."
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Poopocalypse
Bean hasn't been sleeping well this week: his teeth bother him, and then he insists on rolling over while he's still asleep, which makes him furious. Lather, rinse, repeat at least 3x a night. It's not pretty.
This morning, he was going for 4, and I'm on single-parent duty (Paul left on Tues. for final interviews). I willed my son to close his eyes and stop crying. My inner voice begged him to just give me 30 more minutes of the crappy sleep that seems to be our new norm. But he wouldn't. "No way, Mom! I flipped over onto my stomach again and I'm mad about it, sofixitrightnow!"
Ugh. I creep over the the pack n play, all the while thinking to myself, "This had better be good. You better really need me this time."
And need me, he did.
POOPOCALYPSE. Everywhere. So.much.poop.
Soaked the blankets and sheets, through his soaked onesie, up his back, in his hair.
I just grabbed him and headed to the bathroom, where I stripped him down and proceeded to spread the poo to even further reaches of his body. And the countertop. And the baby bathtub.
In desperation, I scrub him down with baby shampoo in his bathtub and then turn on my faucet and rinse him while he hangs over our own tub. He is furious. So so furious.
Until I put a new diaper on him and get his clothes for the day. I earned a smile.
"Thanks, Mom."
This morning, he was going for 4, and I'm on single-parent duty (Paul left on Tues. for final interviews). I willed my son to close his eyes and stop crying. My inner voice begged him to just give me 30 more minutes of the crappy sleep that seems to be our new norm. But he wouldn't. "No way, Mom! I flipped over onto my stomach again and I'm mad about it, sofixitrightnow!"
Ugh. I creep over the the pack n play, all the while thinking to myself, "This had better be good. You better really need me this time."
And need me, he did.
POOPOCALYPSE. Everywhere. So.much.poop.
Soaked the blankets and sheets, through his soaked onesie, up his back, in his hair.
I just grabbed him and headed to the bathroom, where I stripped him down and proceeded to spread the poo to even further reaches of his body. And the countertop. And the baby bathtub.
In desperation, I scrub him down with baby shampoo in his bathtub and then turn on my faucet and rinse him while he hangs over our own tub. He is furious. So so furious.
Until I put a new diaper on him and get his clothes for the day. I earned a smile.
"Thanks, Mom."
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