Shit happens

When Jack was in the hospital for the whole "he was cold" debacle, he peed on his own face. Yes, I am the bad parent who did not take seriously the stories of little boys peeing all over the place and the need to duck and cover and with a cloth diaper when changing them.

So I whipped off his diaper and watched in horror as he peed in a fountain-like fashion. All over his chest, his face, the isolette, the stuffed animal in the isolette and my hand as I tried to cover him.

Today, we got the second half of that equation.

Jack projectile pooped. He got it on the extra diapers, the basket containing the diapers, the changing table, the changing pad and his sock.

All I could do was laugh. He couldn't even muster a reaction. He was cool as a cucumber.

I realized in that moment that my day now consists of cleaning up poop. Some days I just clean it out of a diaper, some days off of his back and on some special days, off everything in a three-foot radius.