I Should Have Listened to My Husband

I will preface this post by saying that my husband is an extremely competent, caring and involved father. There is one thing; however, that he makes very clear: he is not good at changing diapers. Well, I usually dismiss this as him just not wanting to change them, and I make him change diapers anyways. But, as you will soon learn, I should have listened to my husband on this one.

If you regularly read my posts (and I thank both of you that do), you know that I have two problems (well, more than two, but, whatever):

1. Lily doesn't like it when I'm in the shower.

2. And she has poo problems.

So, ever since Lily decided that she liked to scream while I took a shower, I've been showering early in the morning so my husband can take care of the baby. This has been working great, until this morning.

I stepped out of the shower to hear a knock on the door. Dripping wet, I said, "come in..." knowing, of course, it was my husband.

He asked, "Can I get in there? I have poop all over me."

"Well, why didn't you just use the toilet?" I asked.

Finding no humor in my joke, he walked past me and stepped right in the shower. Apparently my little sweetheart had a big 'ole blowout all over daddy's chest. hahaha

Ok, no biggie for me. Baby's happily playing in bed with her stuffed animals, I'll do a quick 2-second-mommy-get-dressed and get Lily ready to take Rob to work.

Upon closer inspection of my little sweetie pie; however, I noticed she has the distinct evidence of yellow-peanut-butter consistency poo smeared on her cheek. Then I found some on her thigh, and all down her leg. And on her foot.

Ok. Guess I'll clean up the baby.

So, I clean her up, and give her the stuffed animals back to play with, only to realize that they also have the distinct evidence of yellow-peanut-butter consistency poo smeared all over them (see below for slightly inappropriate poo picture). Geez.



So I cleaned up the stuffed animals and went downstairs to toss them in the wash, where I found Rob's blanket all bawled up with her nighttime onesie full of poo. Ok, tossed those in the wash, too.

I headed back upstairs, no longer dripping wet, because it had been a good 20 minutes since I stepped out of the shower, only to see that my pillow case, indeed, was also poo-covered.

Ok, honey, lesson learned. You are not good at changing poo diapers and you no longer have to do it. :)