A post about poo (about time!)

Time was, all we had to worry about when changing baby O's nappy was copping a spray. Now that he is older, there are a few more things we need to manage to avoid both of us (some times all three of us, in the event of a poonami outside of business hours) coming out worse off than when we went in.

1. The Quick-as-a-flash Penis Grab: O spent a great deal of time examining his hands, pondering what they the could do, if they were indeed attached to him, and what they taste like. Since mastering digits, he has moved on to new territory. That's right: his genitals. Not being the mother of a girl, I have no idea if girls skip this step or not, but wow, are boys interested in their tackle! If you're dealing with this side of things, I recommend you give up fighting it, and initiate the "Not til mummy's cleaned it" Rule (those fingers don't just go in his mouth).
2. Gee That Box of Wipes Looks Tasty Stretch-a-thon: Gone are the days when all he wanted to do was smile up at the mobile above the change table. Now he wants to look at the box of wipes at the top of the table. Look at, hold, taste the box of wipes. Occasionally bang himself in the head with the box of wipes and cry. We have a collection of toys on hand so that, if I'm quick enough, he will be distracted and we can avoid points 1 and 2. It really only works for a standard wee.
3. Look! Look! I Can Roll Over in a Confined Space: Remember when you were bursting with pride when your tiny one rolled over for the first time? Fast forward 2 months to when you are wrist-deep in poop and he decides that then and there is THE time to roll on to his tummy. If you are up to the clean nappy stage, this isn't so bad - you quickly learn to put a nappy on back-to-front (well, front-to-back, actually, but whatever). If you have only just taken off the dirty one, well, good luck to you.
4. Noooo! What Are You Doing to Meeeee?!: This can hit at anytime of the day, often without warning. There you are, changing his nappy, baby staring contentedly at the mobile, you singing whatever song you have devised about wee, and then BAM! "WAAAAAAAAA!" Out of nowhere. So now you have to change his nappy whilst he is wriggling and kicking (usually cops me in the boob, Daddy in the nuts) and yelling like you are pulling out his fingernails. I'm not sure what I do differently to make these little tanties happen, but it must be something. Perhaps I wasn't holding the wipe correctly... Either way, after one of these nappy changes, I feel like I have to go next door and show the neighbours that my baby is okay, and ask them not to please not call Social Services.
5. The Trifecta: Mercifully, this is rare, and usually happens to Daddy in our house (tee hee!). This is when you have to deal with spew, the fire hose (not sure what it's called for girls) and follow-through. Usually once you have done a full clean up and are about to put on the new nappy. Once we even got poo coming through poo (I hope you aren't eating right now). It truly was amazing. So amazing, both of us like to tell that story to friends and family over meals; and sometimes I'll be sitting on the couch, and Daddy will start reminiscing about that time we got poo through poo... Sigh. Good times.
6. Twist and Shout: This is one of those times - the first nappy change of the morning; after a meal of solids; after a power chuck - when you need to change your baby's clothes or you'll find yourself in one of those mandated "Parenting 101" classes. You'll also be in a rush, or really, really need to pee. What you get in this instance is a combination of all of the above hitting simultaneously, like a tiny, angry tsunami, so that you end up with a wriggling, crying, penis-grabbing, pooping, spewing, weeing monster who must have that box of wipes in his possession. You struggle to clean him up without covering both of you cooties, whilst explaining everything you are doing in a soothing, loving tone and gently batting his hand away from his poo-covered penis when all you really want to do is grunt at him, dangle him in the shower whilst eating a hunk of chocolate and trying not to breathe in through your nose. And then you're done. Calm is restored like someone flipped a switch. He smiles and happily sits on your hip as you wrestle with the aftermath, trying desperately to shove a pooey nappy in the wash without him grabbing it or without you dropping either bundle. Or I guess, you could just pop him down, but you've just suffered a trauma, so you may not be thinking straight... 

And 2 hours later, you scoop up your little fella, roll the dice and see what's in store for this nappy change.