After 7 days of practice, I thought I was getting the hang of changing diapers. But today, Peanut's butt decided to stage her own version of Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory. The whole thing was a comedy of errors. In fact, I'm not even sure exactly what happened. It was like a drive-by shooting, the whole thing occured so quickly. I can't even figure out how best to explain the enormity of her bowel movements...poop per square meter, poop as a percentage of total body weight, poop as a measure of relative density. All I know is that the fucking poop was flying everywhere. And unfortunately, in today's episodic disaster, a lot of it ended up on my fingers.
It's only my extreme love for the Peanut that prevents me from being utterly disgusted. I've suffered Montezuma's revenge on every continent on the planet. I've had 2 dogs, a cat, a rabbit, multiple gerbils, a parrot, goldfish and guinea pig. But NEVER have I experienced ANY form of skin-to-feces contact.
And you know what? The funny thing is that I didn't mind at all. I just had to stop and laugh at myself. Just a year ago, BossLady and I were using miles to take spontaneous weekend trips to Paris so we could party with friends over there. Not too long ago, our favorite hobby was trying to sample every single sushi restaurant on the island of Manhattan. And it was only until very recently that bottle service didn't mean formula and expressed breast milk.
But standing there today in the baby room with pee on my face and shit all over my fingers, with my daughter looking up at me with a gigantic smile on her face...
I don't think I've ever been happier. Ever.