TMI Tuesday: Watch The Winkie!

We are currently operation at DEFCON 2!

It is pretty much guaranteed that when I get home after work our son’s diaper is going to be a little bloated. At nearly 12 pounds, he doesn’t really hold anything back. However, most of the time it is not what you usually think of when you hear about the droopiness of his drawers. While sometimes it is of a stinky nature, most of the time it is the flood waters that are testing the limits of the dam. This is confirmed by the bright blue racing stripe that appears on the front of the diaper.

Of course, whenever in doubt just wait for the crying to begin… our son is not a fan of the squishiness. These are the easy diapers to change… most of the time. Regardless of what he just finished doing, whenever the seal is broken and the emanations are exposed, the shields have to go up… there is just enough help back that a launch could occur at any moment.

While the nerves don’t take to kindly to the free flowing of flatus, it is the tinkle that usually causes the most trouble. At least with a number two you can hear him pushing and watch as his face turns a deeper and deeper shade of red. When it comes to the whiz his only tell is when his winkie decides to imitate a cold war missile drill. The launch could happen or it might not. Best thing to do is prepare the defenses and hope for the best.

My wife and I have discovered that you can really change a diaper quickly when under the threat of attack and most of the time the new diaper is on before the rain begins to fall. When this happens we just hope not to hear thunder which pretty much guarantees that precipitation is eminent. That is when we see the redness disappear and the smirk slowly grow into a full smile… at least it tames the fussiness for a moment.

In hindsight, all of this is a simple source of amusement. Thankfully, we haven’t had any major issues with changing our son… not like the rainbows that we encountered during our first month. With that said, we still have to remain cognizant of the limits of the diaper sizes. Our son is growing quickly and so are his volume requirements so we are continuously cognizant of the issue of proper containment. Hopefully we can continue limiting the onesie casualties, stay ahead of the growth curve, and make sure we keep changing him as fast as possible.

TMI Tuesday: Poo Rainbow

Not long after our son arrived and they brought him back to our room in the maternity ward we were warned of all the things that we would be encountering when we changed his diaper. “Oh, the things you’ll see” as Dr. Seuss would say. However, words can’t really express the interesting moments of discovery when we peeled back the tabs and saw the carnage laid upon Pooville.

It all started with the tar pit. This is the kind of nasty stuff that they find dinosaurs in and what they use to patch highways. It’s like trying to clean up a pile of black superglue. I was half tempted to call the EPA when his diaper seemed as though it was attached with Velcro and the wipes seemed to whimper in the corner of the bassinet.

Slowly but surely these emanations transformed into a consistency that we are all familiar with. “Pardon me, do you have any Grey Poopon?” Why yes, yes I do. That’s right, I was never a big fan of mustard to begin with but I am certainly avoiding it now that I have seen the “seedy Dejon” that our son had been producing. And that is exactly how the doctors and nurses describe the consistency… it is even found in the little take home poo packet.

Seeing all this is one thing but seeing it in action is another. Last weekend we found ourselves playing the part of Lepookans doing our best to avoid being caught at the end of the poo rainbow. Ever since we found out and told people that we were having a boy they all warned us to block the winkie but no one bothered to inform us of the other fountain that poses a threat to new parents.

We were nearly done changing his diaper and about to pull up his new Pampers when all of the sudden someone decided to squeeze the mustard bottle and my wife and I ducked for cover. Thankfully there weren’t any fans in the room that it could hit and really cause a mess. Safe to say we had a little extra laundry that had to be done that night and made be seriously consider putting up a splash guard at the end of the changing table.

However, even with the flurry of fierce feces, things have been going pretty smoothly and, most importantly, baby seems to be happy. He’s a bit of a gassy little baby but none of that matters when I pick him up and he smiles as he looks at me. Of course, there are those interesting times when he holds his hand out seemingly saying “Daddy, pull my finger!”