Friday, April 29, 2011


There have been so many memorable moments with our adorable baby boy Ryan that I can't even begin to count them all. The memories of him laughing at his daddy playing peek a boo around the doorway, or lighting the room with his toothless smile in the morning, all are equally important to us, but let's be honest, the poop stories are the best.
Many heard of the great "I put a size too large diaper on my boy and he exploded everywhere" story of last week. And this latest story is no exception in the funny category.
My day started off with a marathon run to several stores to finish gift shopping for this weekend's wedding festivities. As I unloaded my cart full of goodies to pay at Toys-R-Us I reached for my wallet. Gone.'s by the computer at home. Super. I happened to have my checkbook which the cashier graciously let me use sans driver license.
I headed over to the bank where I begged for them to cash a check without ID. Luckily since I work at another branch, they just asked a few security questions and I was on my way cash in hand.
On to the mall. Parked the car and realized that I had no stroller with me. Double shit. So I picked up my 16 and a half pound son and headed in. Now I understand 16.5 pounds isn't a lot. But toting my equally as heavy diaper bag and shopping bags I accrued proved to be a work out. Somewhere around JCPenny's Ryan decided he had had enough. Understandable. So he started crying as I shopped for ties for Ben and then proceeded to fall asleep. Deadweight. Awesome.
Keep in mind that Ryan is not much different than his Daddy. He shares the same looks and the ability to be a mobile heater. Always hot and sweaty. Thus making Mommy hot and sweaty.
Then on to Target. Luckily I kept Ryan in his car seat and placed him in a grocery cart. Sweet relief. Target went over relatively smoothly. And it was off to home.
Now comes the poop. Ben and Ryan have a sort of agreement apparently. He doesn't poop or poops very little while his Daddy is home. But when Daddy goes to work, the flood gates are open. As I sat at the computer with my baby boy on my lap to balance my checkbook (multitasking my friend) Ryan grunts and grunts a little more and proceeds to fill his diaper.
I move him to the changing table and there I find a surprise (not so much of a surprise anymore). The diaper leaked. Up the front this time, thus covering his dirty bits. So in an effort to be diaper changing savvy, I started the kitchen sink sprayer. Warmed the water up, went to get Ryan off the changing table I found him grinning from ear to ear with poop all over his hands and face. Triple shit (literally!). Ryan decided to take a sample of the poo that covered his belly and make his Momma's day even more exciting.
So I took the diaper off and ran him over to the sink. The sprayer worked wonderfully. It sprayed off the stinky mess and I gave myself a pat on the back. What a brilliant idea! I celebrated too soon. Because in my haste to spray off the brown artwork my son displayed on his hind-quarters I forgot to have anything prepared to dry off his now soaked body. As he dripped across the floor on the way back to the changing table I laid him down and grabbed the extremely faulty dirty diaper and ran it to the trash. I came back to my smiling son...never a good thing when he has his "I'm so cute you can't get mad at me" smile on. He had peed. So I sopped up the pee with paper towels, diapered his ass up, and am looking forward to making thru the rest of my day.
I'm thinking we are going to have to rework this arrangement he has going with his Daddy!


Larry said...

Well told story. Keep 'em coming!

marty said...

There is something wrong with that boy! Too funny!
What a harrowing day--loved, loved, LOVED this post. And you have my sympathy. I know you don't drink, but a strawberry smoothie and a hot bath tonight seems in order. Best of luck on the trip to TN and I hope you have a wonderful time! Love ya lots!

Mom said...

Awesome! Ryan does have a pretty effective grin. It really is impossible to get upset with him.