Sheer Volume

Until I was a mother I could never imagine the sheer volume of bodily fluids that could be emitted from such a tiny seemingly angelic creature. Granted I had done my fair share of babysitting, but until you LIVE it, it never really adds up quite the same... It is now 1:40 in the afternoon and so far today I have been puked on three times, peed on once, and almost pooped on (got the diaper closed juuust in time.. WIN!!). I cant tell you how many double diaper changes I've had to do just because he decided to wait for a fresh diaper to finish what he has started the diaper before. And we do cloth so its not exactly a picnic with the folding and snapping and pinning and velcroing him all day.. I feel like I'm my Grandmother wrapping a Christmas present, six layers of tape, twelve rubber bands, three paper clips, a plastic baggie, some bubble wrap... But thats another story altogether.

I sometimes wonder if he plans it... The number of times he has puked/peed/pooped on me when I was late for something/just out of the shower/wearing the first clean item of clothing that I had put on in days: one billion and seventy three. Number of times he has done one of the aforementioned travesties when I could have cared less: zero... Okay maybe thats not completely accurate, the numbers are slightly skewed but for the sake of smooth witty musings we will leave it at that.

At least he doesn't save this wonderful behavior just for me, he peed on the Rabbi who did his Brit Milah.. Twice. He has bombarded his father with golden showers more times than we can count, with girlish squeals of horror from Hubby and equal squeals of delight from baby. The only person he hasn't peed on yet is his Babushka (my Mother in Law)who he clearly thinks is the greatest thing since boobie, though he did my Sister in Law yesterday, so maybe its a matter of time...

The other morning I awoke to a scream of panic and as I'm running to the nursery where I am expecting to find my darling baby in pieces I hear "I can't haaandle thiiissssss, I don't know what to do!!!". I reach the door of the nursery to see Hubby standing there with both hands full of poopy baby wipes, a look of horror on his face, and baby lying on the changing table kicking his legs with a huge grin and covered from the neck down in poop. Turns out as Hubby was changing the first poopy diaper of the morning (a courtesy he extends me so that I can get 10 minutes of sleep with my boobs to myself) baby had decided that he wasn't done yet and had proceeded to have a giiiiant poop all over the changing table, hubby and himself, taking great delight in his accomplishment and wriggling as much as possible to spread the love to the far end of the earth. Three or so clean diapers and a few more baby wipes later we had the disaster zone cleaned up and a fresh diaper on baby. He filled it five minutes later..