Sunday, November 30, 2014

Cheeta: Week 2

I can't promise to do a post EVERY week for Cheeta but things change so quick at the beginning it helps me keep track of what happened when.
This week we saw an increase in awake time, so after eating he does not go immediately back to sleep. This is adorable of course because when clean and full, he is very focused on our faces and memorizing who we are: 
Or the mop next to his head.
I can't count the number of times this week Tarzan has said, "I love holding him like this!"
Cheeta also has decided he likes to be held while asleep - I blame Tarzan for that one; all those hours at the computer, reveling in the fact we made another human being - so once he is asleep, we take a few extra minutes walking around in the dark to make sure he really means it.
There have been a few adventures this week; Thanksgiving being his first long drive (2 hours out to my parents' house and then 2 more back), meeting his cousin Ted - neither one of them seemed to care much - making it through Mommy's first solo day and his first rainstorm. (Bring it! The Jungle needs the rain.)
Big news; we are making progress in the nursing department.
I think.
We will find out at the pediatrician's office this week if Cheeta is gaining weight. I'm encouraged by the number of wet diapers he creates and then...then there was the epic poo of this afternoon.
I share this not to embarrass my son - who, if he is like his father will take pride in the story one day - but as an illustration of my belief that he is, in fact, gaining nourishment from somewhere.
I am not as na├»ve as you might believe. We have had one blowout diaper over here already that got on clothing and went down legs, so when I heard the telltale noise from Cheeta's direction, I did not panic. I took him to the bathroom and laid him on the changing mat, undid the legs of his sleeper and waited. Sure enough, there was another of the distinctive sounds. And I waited that one out too. When there had been a few minutes of silence I thought it was safe to start the clean up. I used the diaper to get the most I could, reached for a wipe, while holding Cheeta's heels up slightly out of the goo, and was totally surprised when the poop came shooting out, over my hand, down the front of my robe, onto my slippers and - silly me, I jumped - then on to the wall.
In three places.
Naturally, in the stunned pause that followed, he decided to pee on me as well. Figuring we were really done this time, I started to clean it all up - bless Tarzan for the newspaper in the bathroom - only to have more poop arrive on the scene. A little less distance, just as much mess. Followed by more pee.
Poor kid ended up dressed in a diaper and a towel crying on the couch while I got changed, tried to restore order to the bathroom and prayed Tarzan would get home from church soon.
(He did not get back soon enough.)

This is me still cleaning it up.

4 comments:

Renay H. Marquez said...

Well, as bad as that is, I've got stories of puke and poop. At least it happened early and not when he was 3 or 4.
Hang in there. It will get easier.

Miss D said...

That definitely qualifies as a crapocalyse. I'm so sorry! That is the worst when you don't have back-up to help console the creator of poo while you cleanse yourself. But yay for progress nursing and nourishment for Cheeta!!

Anonymous said...

Thanks for the laugh-out-loud guffaw :D
You're right. 'Til make great storytelling someday.
Congrats on a solo well performed.

Cathie said...

Our first blowout was at one of those first pediatrician appointments, when they had to do her heel prick. And being the dork that I am, we didn't have any clothes in the diaper bag. Took her home in a diaper and a blanket!

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