Yes, I said powerful.
Before you ask me what in the world I mean by describing an infant as powerful let me share a little story with you.
After being released from the hospital Andrew and I went to his first well visit with his new pediatrician. I always love these visits because I get to find out how awesome my kid is and how fast he is growing! I love showing him off to the doctor and nurses and hearing all the Ooooo's and Ahhhh's.
Yes, I like to show my kids off, sue me.:-)
Like the other two before him, Andrew proved to be growing fast and adding his weight back on. He was getting taller already and showing the doctor how alert he was. Things were going well until......thunder. No not the thunder that is accompanied with lightning, the kind of thunder that shakes fear into the hearts of parents everywhere. The kind of thunder that makes grown men cry and fall to their knees gagging and praying for oxygen. Thunder that announces I'M HERE WORLD AND YOU ARE MY SLAVE!
Please let me stop for just a second and set the scene for you. Up until this point David had been in the room with me. However, the doctor was sending us to the lab for standard blood work and he took David to the waiting room as the lab was small and didn't have enough space for two parents. I was left behind in the room ALONE to redress the little dude and prepare him for his heel stick. If only the thunder had occurred before David left the room WITH THE DIAPER BAG things may have turned out different.....but.....that's not how it happened.
Fast forward back to the point where I heard and felt the thunder. A moment of panic set in. Unlike the other two kiddos this new kid had proven to have very strong bowels. When I say strong I don't just mean smell, I mean projectile! He could fight the war on terror with his own weapon of messy destruction.
After the panic hit I moved into survival mode. I knew what was happening and so I began to frantically look around the room for things to use. That's when the sweet nurse popped her head in and I explained that I needed a diaper and wipes. "Sure, no problem. I will be right back!" GREAT! This is no big deal, or so I thought. She promptly returned with the necessary items for me to clean him up and for us to be on our way.
That's when it happened.
The moment that still places fear in my heart at every diaper change.
I removed the dirty diaper and he began shooting fireworks all over the room. He hit the wall, the pictures on the wall, the bench behind me, the bed he was laying on, the floor and somehow a little ended up near the ceiling. I was horrified!!! I began wiping everything as fast as I could with the wipes but the fireworks just kept exploding! I rolled up the tissue they stretch out across the bed for "sanitary purposes" (which obviously was null and void at this point) and made a ball of tissue that I placed next to the exit point. I thought for sure that would give me time to clean up the mess however, that tissue isn't worth a buck! He managed to shoot enough fireworks off that he shot a hole right through and then kept firing at the wall.
Side note, please remember this was a c section so I was still on some pretty powerful pain pills which slowed my reaction time. Keep that into consideration as I was experiencing this adventure.
At one point the doctor popped his head in and looked around. He said, "Oh dear me! I will be back later." And the man left me! He left me in a room with poop covered walls, poop covered pictures, poop on the bench, and poop on the floor! He never once offered to help or even give me encouragement as a cheerleader. Nope, that man left me out there defending myself. This soldier was left behind on a very nasty battlefield.
I assume that the Doctor told the nurse to come see the chaos because shortly after he shut the door she popped her head in and pretty much said the same exact thing. As she shut the door behind her I realized that I was the lone survivor of this Apocalypse and I would have to fight this battle without any assistance or aid. At this point the fireworks had completely penetrated the tissue ball I had created so I scooted the baby down the bed and made the ball bigger. I did this until a hole was created and then I scooted him down a bit more. This worked great in controlling the direction of the explosions but didn't last long as the bed wasn't very big. Once we got to the top of the bed I managed to unroll a bit more tissue but to my awesome luck, the roll ran out.
SERIOUSLY?????
COME ON!!!!!
After what seemed like an eternity the Grand Finale was over. The shooting ceased and the battle had ended. I waved my white flag in horror of what remained. I'm pretty sure I could be diagnosed with PPSD (Post Poop Stress Disorder). After his body seemed to be finished I began triage of the room and cleaned up our chaos. I used exactly 137 wet wipes. I cleaned everything as well as I could and then the sweet nurse (who left me for dead) came in to see if I needed help.
REALLY?
IT'S A BIT LATE DON'T YA THINK?
I informed her that before bringing in another patient she needed to "sterilize this area, this area over here, the pictures, the wall up to the ceiling, and most of the floor. " At that point I don't think she knew what to do or say. Her face just became a blank canvas. Her eyes stared at me as though I were a creature from outer space. She quietly turned and guided me to the lab where she wished me a more peaceful day.
I'm not sure what was said in the doctor's office that day but I"m pretty positive that I ended up being the Facebook status for several people. This was an episode that has been relived in my mind every single time I begin ripping the tabs from the front of Andrew's little diaper. Each little toot and stinky make me shutter at the idea of Poopageddon 2013. I panic when I hear thunder while we are in public or Heaven forbid on a road trip. To all you parents out there. Beware, thunder from down under can be a horrific experience. Be strong, be brave and most of all, be prepared. NEVER BE WITHOUT DIAPERS AND WIPES. (even if you have to store them in your bra).
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