Meanwhile, we have our first competition of the season this weekend. I leave tomorrow morning for Lafayette, with Baby B in tow, since Daddy is going to the GAME. Just me and pumpkin. I come home late from dance to a house that needs quite a bit of attention, a baby who just finished eating his nightly bottle (arms stretched out saying TAKE ME MAMA) and a husband who was saying TAKE HIM MAMA. I did. Like I always do, but have a ton of things. So after Brannan says "babe, I'm starving. I need to eat something. " and poof is gone with the snap of the fingers, I look over to my bundle of joy who's been wedged between the Boppy and propped on top of 5 plush toys to keep him from falling from the newly not yet mastered Sittin Up position. He tries his damn-est to grab everything he possibly can, at the same time, and shove it in his mouth. You'll see the photo below. My judges goody baskets could wait. The laundry could wait and so could the house work, bottle cleaning, packing, and cd-finishing. It's 10:00 p.m. and my son isn't asleep. Brannan says "Babe, just put him in his Jump er roo. Then you can get your work done" Don't those husbands' know best? MmHmm. Brannan III jumped to his heart's content, despite being a loaded gun (on both ends). Brannan was able to eat, and I was able to finish #1 on the list of 243 to do. I was in BK3's room beginning to pack when I hear Daddy B bringing BK3 down the hall. In my mind "Why has he picked him up out of his happy place? That's weird". Brannan says "Babe, does he have a dirty diaper?" as he's shoving his rear end into my face. At this point, pause. I should've known better. CARRIE DO NOT SMELL HIS BUTT. But no. I'm stupid now. My baby ate my brain. What did I do? Shoved my nose right into it. BAM. The traumatizing smell of Formula + Squash, digested. And Daddy definitely did that on purpose. After a few minutes of trying to convince Brannan that it was his turn....truly, it will ALWAYS be his turn in my book....I laid him down on the changing pad to realize that the shit didn't stay in his diaper where it belonged. OH NO. It was down his entire left leg. Covered his foot. In between his toes. Seeped into his onesie. And so damn close to his fingers it was scary. Let's just say Daddy HIGH TAILED it as soon as I screamed. Men have a funny sense of knowing when to run. Brannan's excuse? "Babe, you've already smelled it. It's go time for you". We won't go into the top o' the line Gas Mask that sits in the right drawer below the changing station. It's there for a reason. Don't believe me come check. Hmm. OK. So it's 10:30, and now we need to take a bath. All the while, BK3 thinks this is absolutely hilarious. I couldn't be mad. It was funny.
We bathed. Daddy's job was to spray off the onesie. Miniscule compared to the task I was undertaking...but he still suffered, so it was ok. Fast forward to the next hour that Brannan tried getting Baby B to sleep. Nah, didn't feel like sleeping. So we put him in his bed to talk with the Li'l Einstein light up sea thingy. 1/2 an hour goes by. Still awake. Another 1/2 an hour. Still laughing mysteriously as if we were the dumbest parents on the planet and he was getting a kick out of keeping us awake. I didn't mind. I still had 123 things left to do. I'm onto Laundry. Putting it all away, at midnight and I notice NO SOUNDS. Looked at the monitor. The joker is asleep. Couldn't last could ya li'l man!
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| Daddy's attempt at propping him up.... |
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