Dirty Business

Today I went to the mall; not really because I needed anything, just because I wanted to be in a warm building. After about an hour or so, I walked in to Nordstroms and started to browse around the shoe department. During this time, several people came up to me and mentioned how good Brooklen was being. Most parents probably wouldn't think twice about receiving this sort of compliment, but I know better; my child is NEVER good when I am shopping. So after the third or fourth compliment, I started to really get suspicious. As I wondered about his demeanor, a certain familiar stench finally graced me. And then it all made sense . . . Brooklen is usually only quiet and still when he is sleeping or relieving himself (aka pooping). So, I waited a few minutes (big mistake) and let him finish his business. This, of course, meant that I had to sacrifice a little dignity, since he never does this without being heard loud and strong.

Finally, I took him to the restroom. As I pulled him out of the stroller, I noticed that his pants were wet. As I laid him on the changing table, I also noticed that his shoes were drenched in poop. At this point, I knew that it was going to be a dirty job, and I removed my coat and my scarf to prepare for the mess. I have gotten pretty used to Brooklen's frequent explosive bowel movements. At this point, I try not to be too sentimental about his clothing, since much of it gets ruined; but really, this was like nothing I had ever seen before. On his shoes, on his socks, on his pants, and on the two shirts that he was wearing. Oh, and on his hands; definitely not a good thing when your baby is teething and wants to chew on his fingers constantly.

So I changed his diaper. I disinfected his hands, and I stripped off his clothes. I had an extra outfit in the diaper bag, but it was newborn size, and wouldn't even fit over his head. Luckily, I had a blanket with me. I wrapped him up like a burrito, and sat him in the stroller, trying to tuck all of his naked body parts under the blanket. We left the bathroom, and I didn't get more than 10 steps, before he wiggled out of the blanket, and threw it off of himself. Did I mention that the kid is strong? I scurried to pick up the blanket and re-wrapped him hoping no one had seen my naked child. By the time I had walked around to the back of the stroller, the blanket was on the ground. I wasn't necessarily ashamed of having a naked child, but rather ashamed of my child being naked when it is 30 degrees outside. In just the last 2 weeks, I have been victim to not one, but two people following me into stores tell me that I needed to cover my baby's FACE with a blanket in this weather. Isn't it enough to have shoes, socks, a jacket, and a blanket on them to keep them warm? I even asked my pediatrician about this; she consoled me by reminding me that the cold doesn't cause colds. Anyway, so there I was. A mother with a naked child, carrying a bag full of stinky clothes, walking around Nordstrom. Beautiful.

The reason I record this adventure is because sweetie, when you are older and you have a little brother or sister, and you complain about what a mess and what a pain they are, I will tell you this story to remind you that you too were, in fact, a messy little stinker (no pun intended).