>Dana went to her six week post-birth doctor appointment first thing yesterday morning, (foolishly) entrusting the care of Marcus to my mom and me. Fortunately, the little bugger slept a lot, but when he woke up, it meant it was time for a diaper change and eating. I volunteered to be on diaper doodie (heh heh) while my mom heated up the bottle of pumped breast milk.
The changing process started out well. Marcus screamed himself red in the face while I removed his diaper, but I heard him fart and kept his poopy diaper in place, thus catching the burst of crap that he forced out. As I congratulated myself, however, he peed, which went directly into his face, all over the mat on the changing table, and on the new diaper I set aside to use. Damn. I'd witnessed this before, though, so I knew to wipe him down with wet wipes. Except that he was now soaking wet, and I had nothing to towel him down with before putting on his new outfit, so I grabbed a receiving blanket. While I dabbed him dry, I realized that the changing table was wet from pee, so I wiped that with a wet wipe, and put him down, not realizing that the mat was still wet from the wipe, and making him wet all over again. I picked him up again, wiped down the mat, and as I dried Marcus again, he peed on himself and the mat. I wanted to join his screaming.
Eventually, the stars and moon aligned and I redressed the dry squirmer. We went downstairs for a bottle. We sucked down five ounces in less than 20 minutes. When I burped him, he gave me a very big belch, which made my mom and I grin. We put him in his bouncy chair and watched him while we ate breakfast.
I was almost finished with my eggs when Marcus began crying again. As I lifted him out of his bouncy chair, I noticed a yellow stain near the back of his thigh. Shit! A blowout! (When my friend Dianne's daughter was a month old, I witnessed this horrible phenomena: baby makes a crap so big that it blows out of the diaper up the baby's back.) Back to the changing table, this time with my mom to help.
More peeing, screaming (Marcus, not my mom and I), drying, and re-diapering ensued. By the time Dana returned, Marcus was cozy, clean, and sleeping. Go us! I don't know how anyone does this job full-time.