In which I learn that the introduction of solid foods to Tristan’s diet makes carrying spare clothes absolutely vital.
It’s been a big week for Tristan – solid food, a half-birthday, near crawling. Also, after a few weeks of silence, Tristan is babbling again, which is lovely to hear. Unfortunately, with all these positives comes a negative – time for the six-month checkup and vaccination.
Nathan has been able to come with me to all of Tristan’s other appointments, but yesterday he had to teach, so I was on my own. Of course, it was the day that the fireplace inspector was due to come, and Tristan had a record-breaking 2-hour morning nap, so we were running out the door a few minutes behind schedule. However, the traffic gods were kind, and gave me a quick drive and an excellent parking spot.
I grabbed purse, diaper bag and baby, and dashed inside. They were ready for us, and usher us into room 5, where I’m told to undress him for the usual weighing and measuring. I dropped my bags on the chair and shifted Tristan to the paper-covered exam table. And I noticed that my shirt is damp where I’ve been holding him.
Oh no! Pee-pee blow out! It’s been a while since he’s done that. Grimacing, I turned him around to see that indeed, one leg of his pants was soaked from crotch to knee. So much for the “convenience” of disposable diapers!
Then I noticed a smell. An unpleasant smell. My heart sank as I began to peel down his pants. Is it even possible?
We interrupt this post with a public service warning. What follows is not for the faint of heart, or weak of stomach. Some readers may find the following photograph disturbing.
Indeed, it is. It’s poop. Wet, thick, sticky, solid-food poop. From crotch to knee and beyond. Which means that the liquid covering my shirt, that has seeped through to my bra, is not pee, but in fact strained poop-juice.
I didn’t have a camera there, but I took a picture of his pants when I got home.This is what baby-processed bananas and rice-cereal look like.
Meanwhile, I had a poopy baby grinning up at me as if to say, “Did I do good?” Yeah, sweetie, you did great. I peeled off his equally-disgusting onesie (thank goodness it wasn’t the Canucks one – what kind of luck would that have been?), rolled up my sleeves, and dove in. Twice the nurse came in to measure him, and twice she turned on her heel and walked away upon seeing the spread of poop across table, baby and me. Thank goodness for the paper on the exam table, I unrolled clean paper three times before I was done.
Finally, we’re clean. It took every wipe in my bag, but we’re clean. The nurse tentatively poked her head in, and was relieved to see that there was no poop in sight. Tristan was weighed (19 lb 2 oz – only 2 oz more than last month), measured (70.5 cm, a one cm increase), and examined (all systems go). He took his vaccination like a champ, with only one tiny whimper. Then the doctor left us so I could dress him.
As I’m sure you’ve guessed from the sub-title of this post, this is the point where I discover that I had no extra clothes. I didn’t have a shirt, a sleeper…not so much as a receiving blanket. I’m wasn’t even wearing a coat, and was wondering if I’d have to wrap him in my now-dry-but-stinky shirt and drive home in my foul-smelling bra.
Then, eureka! I remembered the change pad inside the travel-sized change mat. I pulled it out, it’s about 2 feet by 1 foot – barely enough to wrap around his shoulders. But at least it’s red, so he looked like a superhero. I snuggled my red-caped baby tight and ran out to the car before anybody could notice my baby is naked and call social services on us.
Fortunately the car was warm, and I keep a blanket in there, so all’s well that ends well. I learned a valuable lesson – keep extra clothes in the car, the diaper bag, and my purse, from now until he’s 16. Maybe even beyond – after all, I think I was 18 the time that at the beach, when Granny had to pull an extra pair of undies out of her purse for me.
But that’s another story.