Today I had an interesting experience with Breanna, one I had never had with Hayley, and by “interesting” I really mean “GOD I hope that never happens again, please and thank you”.

She was sitting all nice and serene on my lap, having a leisurely Sunday morning nursing session. When she was done she looked up at me with big smiles and waves of the arms. It was a pleasant moment, a true bonding connection.

After a few minutes of saying “ahhh” in response to my commentaries, she flashed her hands at me, the signal she gives when she wants me to either pick her up or help her to get into a sitting or standing position; it looks a lot like the sign for milk, except that instead of holding her hand up facing me, she keeps them facing up, almost like she’s saying “come on come ON”. She learned it because I inadvertantly did it while trying to get her to give me her hands, not thinking about how this could become confusing when I try to teach her how to sign for milk. Alas. Anyway, that’s not the point.

So she’s flashing her “help me up” hands at me and wriggling in my lap. I put my hands under her arms and started to ease her up into a sitting position so she could look around or perhaps better reach my glasses to rip them from my face. That’s when I realized she was quite possibly wriggling because she had pooped. And although we usually have little to no trouble with our brand of diapers, something went horribly wrong, like “Houston, we have a PROBLEM” wrong, because I’d guess that approximately 75% of what should have remained IN her diaper was in fact ON MY LEG.

Did I mention that she ate a great deal of banana yesterday and that babies-on-solids have far more frightening poops that breastfed-only babies?

Did I also mention that I was wearing shorts and her butt had been positioned over my bare leg?

Did I mention that you might have wanted to skip this post if you were eating? No? My bad. Oh well, if you’re a mom you probably aren’t bothered in the least and have carried on with eating your donuts.

I’m so happy that Hayley was here and co-operative. I got her to bring me the changing pad, a blanket, and a roll of toilet paper. Then I sent her into the bathroom to get the cream baby cleanser that doesn’t require water (I can’t tell you enough times how useful no-rinse cleanser is for diaper blow-outs). I sat on the floor, with Breanna standing on the changing pad wondering how to navigate this disaster. Finally I just laid her down and did it as fast as I could. I must confess though, I cleaned my leg off before I went near her. Then I kept one hand cleaning and tearing off more toilet paper, the other frantically putting one toy after another into Breanna’s hands so they wouldn’t wind up in her scary diaper.

It took some effort, but in the end I got her cleaned up quickly (while Hayley alternated between wanting to see what was going on and being horrified). I swear she looked up at me from the floor and smiled broadly as I then used the cleanser to clean my leg a little more. She was very happy after it was all over. No kidding, I would be too.

I remember reading over on Amalah’s site about how Noah had pooped all over her jeans and the couch and oh, how I laughed at the great way she told the story. And I made the horrible mistake of being grateful that although Hayley had pooped on my pants once or twice, it was just a little and such a thing of epic proportions had never happened to me. Karma is a bitch, baby. And Amy? Just breathe a sigh of relief that it was your jeans. Bare leg SUCKS so much more than fabric.

(Also, I wonder if I should confess that I couldn’t remember when she wrote it and thus found it again by doing a Google search for “Amalah poop pants couch” or if I should not say anything at all and let her wonder what kind of sick lunatics troll her site.)

There are some things that no one tells you about being a mother. And there are some things that no one tells you because you just wouldn’t believe it if they did.