The Carnage

About 90 percent of the time, I am OK with this parenting stuff. I do my research thoroughly, lots of reading, asking around, tried and true, and hypothesis testing. 90 percent of the time, it works out. 5 percent of the time, I'm a little lost. I need help. I don't really know what to do, like this sleep issue (for another post). And the other 5 percent, I think I'm really going to lose it. Like today.
I am okay dealing with bodily fluids. They really don't bother me. Shit is not my favorite area of parenting, but I deal- wipe up the mess and get on with your life.
Not today.
Tessa has started eating solids. It's a lot of fun watching that little face make all sorts of expressions when she tastes something new or discovers the strange texture of oatmeal. It's fun to feed her while I eat because she STARES at my food going from plate to fork or spoon to mouth, and most of the time reaches for it. She wants a piece of the fun. Understandable. The downside to starting solids? The shit changes. It goes from liquidy easy-to-clean poopy to stinky, thick, messy, sticky crap. Tessa discovered a cracker the other day, loved it to pieces, literally, and had oatmeal with apple today. She hadn't pooped in 3 days. I should have known what was coming to me.
It started when I saw the brown stripe above her pants. This means that the poop has exploded up the front and likely the back of the diaper and has seeped through her clothes. I brought her to the changing table, took off her pants, undid her diaper, and that, my friends, is when the fun started.
It was HUGE. ENORMOUS. And the second the diaper was opened, her hands went right for it. Then her feet. I wiped the hands, knowing their next stop would be her mouth. I went to work on her feet so they wouldn't smear all over the table. Then the hands went back in. And while I was trying to clean her hands again, the shit got all over the table. And within seconds, it was on her elbows, legs, belly, head, and my hands, arms, and shirt. It was uncontrollable. While Tessa was flailing all over, having the time of her life at her own little poop party, I was trying to get more wipes out which got stuck and the whole damn package ended up across the room, so there I was, no wipes, shit all over, hair in my face and no way to get it out, the table covered, baby covered, me covered, and I lost it. I just lost it. I started shrieking because WHY was there no one there to help me and this was DEFINITELY someone else's fault (can't blame the baby, definitely can't blame self, so pick anyone else) I don't know who but it was SOMEONE's fault and WHY ISN'T ANYONE HELPING ME!!!!!!! Meanwhile, Tessa is laying there in her mess thinking I am the FUNNIEST crazy mom in the entire world. Laughing her poopy little ass off while I'm shrieking and practically in tears. Woe is me.
It was like a scene from a battlefield, only instead of the blood of a million soldiers, it was like a million soldiers pooped themselves. The carnage of it. I'll never forget this day. The Great Poop of 2009? Look it up on wikipedia.
Eventually I stripped baby and self and got us both to the bath to be de-pooped because a whole package of wipes wasn't enough for that explosion. And settled myself down, because after all, it was just a poop, everything and everyone can be washed and that will solve the problem.
At the end of the day, I think I do pretty damn well for a first time mom. It is just these brief moments that I know I'm being tested. Do you have what it takes to get through the baby months? Because you know childhood and the teenage years are really going to give you a run for your money. You better know what you are getting yourself into.