Dec 23, 2009

Stealth Poop and Momma Fail...

Let me just start this post by saying that I am really a very good mother. My child is happy and healthy, very intelligent and well adjusted. He knows his needs will always be met...I am at his beck and call. 3am, and I have a bottle warming. He even looks like he is gonna poop and I am warming the wipes. Snuggles and songs and books and conversations are a constant thing. I dance like a fool for him (which seriously frightens the dog and various other people who catch sight of this ritual), I make up stupid songs for him, I love him so much my heart hurts...


All mommies screw up sometimes, right?


Yesterday was a nice, calm day. Jude had been going through a growth spurt which made him cranky and hungry and just plain miserable, but yesterday? He was lovely. Didn't say boo...napped like a champ.

At suppertime, he sat with us in his baby chair and looked around happily. I jiggled the kitchen lamp so that he could watch the light patterns on the ceiling, he talked to himself and played with his toys.

After supper I fed him and he fussed a little. No big deal.

At around 9pm, I decided to change his diaper and put him down for the night, and what did I find?

Poop, that's what.

Poor little man had been wearing a poopy diaper for who the heck knows how long. I didn't smell it. I didn't see him scrunch up his face and turn red (pooping is usually a production). But, there was definitely poop. I apologized profusely as I rocked him to sleep and felt like a terrible mother.

Jude, thinking that his mother sucks.

But, today was the real momma fail.

Jude came to Walmart/grocery store with us for some last minute Christmas shopping. He loves his carseat, and usually sleeps the entire time we are out...including the transfers from car to cart, etc.

Well, we were out too long, I guess (epic fail #1) and he woke up hungry. I had decided to wait with Jude in the car instead of hauling him into yet another cart, so when he began crying, I jumped into action and grabbed the bottle we'd brought along just in case. Jude took a few long, hard and very relieved draws on the nipple and then let go and screamed louder! What the heck? Then I realized...the formula was cold (epic fail #2).

So, how do you warm a bottle in the car when the car is not running and you are wrangling a very angry, snowsuited infant? You shove it in your cleavage. And, when that doesn't work because your boobs are just not what they used to be, your armpit. Uh huh. I so did it, and it worked. I love it when success comes out of failure.

And while I am confessing...I have been known to help Jude to suck the thumb he very dearly wants to suck. He can get his hand there no problem, but he always forgets to stick out his thumb. So, I stick it out for him and he munches away.

Yes, I am an enabler.

Sue me.


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