Today I was peed on by my littlest one. Twice. On two separate and distinct occasions. I mean, seriously, he peed in the pocket of my sweatshirt. How is that even possible? He got my shirt too, right at the wrist. Its bad enough that I hate damp wrists, but to be damp with baby pee?? Intolerable. Then I had to sit there in the doctor’s office, after I cleaned up the puddle on their table, and be damp. And try not to put my hands in my pocket accidentally. Yeah, yeah, yeah..my fault, right? Well try to juggle a wiggly hungry naked baby when you left his spare diaper in your bag out of arm’s reach.
So, then I guess he realized he didn’t do a thorough job and while I was assisting with a diaper change as my dear husband was trying to track down where the 2 massive boxes of 600 baby wipes could have disappeared to, he peed all over my pants, the kitchen floor, and my shoes. Its not like I could have just put him down. So, I had to keep holding him while he did his best impression of a certain infamous bronze statue in Brussels. If you don’t know what that is, look it up and consider it something new you learned today (you’re welcome). Since I was still wearing my already peed on other clothes, I figured it was a win for me. I mean, its not like I changed into clean clothes and then got peed on. So….score.
I gave him a bath. Which is great, because somehow the poor second child gets bathed like this:
“Frank, when was the last time we gave the baby a bath?”
“Huh, I’m not sure.”
“Ok, we should give him a bath tonight.”
And then we proceed to not give him a bath. Don’t get me wrong, he’s not dirty. He’s just washed really well with wipes. Which is why we have enough to clean a herd of baby elephants. Hey! Did you know that another term for a herd of elephants is a “parade”? Really, its true. Look at that, you just learned something else today. You should celebrate with a beer. And while you’re at it, have one for me, I’m too tired to drink. All that will happen is I’ll try really hard, then get sad as it gets warm. Eventually I’ll give up and dump the remainder and go to bed feeling old. And tired.
Oh, by the way. Do you think I’ve changed out of my peed on clothes?
No. No, I have not. I’ll get to it. Eventually. Only because I can’t sleep in these jeans. Or sneakers. Oh, and because that’s totally gross and I’d never do a thing like that out of tired desperation to possibly get 4 straight hours of sleep. Nope. Never happened before. I swear.