Midnight in the Garden of Poop and Evil

hiya, sweet cheeks!

quinn, you are a predictable pooper. you are SO predictable that i can put flushable liners in your cloth diapers on what i know to be a poop day and save myself (and the rest of us) the odorific experience of storing your poopy cloth diaper until it's wash time.

well, now that you're eating more table foods -- and because you have a pretty serious milk allergy -- and because so many processed foods contain milk of some kind, your "schedule" is going up in flames. literally. on your butt.

the other night, you broke your routine and had what we call a "midnight poopy". we don't like midnight poopy. we don't like ANYTHING that messes with a small person's sleep. you woke up and started crying. i gave you a couple minutes to see if you were going to settle, but you didn't...you got more upset. i took you a 2 oz snack bottle and some motrin (your canines are trying to come through and they're causing a lot of pain...thought they might be the culprit). i go into pick you up and try to soothe you, and you are a bundle of rock-hard muscles. your entire body is TENSE. you are pushing me away, kicking me with your legs, arching backward, and crying so hard that you are nearly screaming. i haven't seen you this upset since your reflux has been under control.

i bring you downstairs to see if i can assess the situation and get some help from daddy. you do the same tense maneuvers in daddy's arms, and he says he smells something "funny". i almost never can smell your poopy diapers, and daddy ALWAYS can! so, we get you undressed and sure enough, you've got surprise in your pants. you cried super hard and thrashed around until i got you cleaned up, and then it was like someone flipped your switch. you went limp, fell back to sleep, and went on about your night like nothing had happened.

the day before this had happened, you had swiped some of sissy's mac n cheese. i am thinking that the dairy is what hurt you so badly. i am redoubling my efforts to keep dairy out of your reach.

i have been on a bit of a bad streak this week. two days after the midnight poopy fire butt incident, i banged your head not once, but twice, poked sissy in the eye, and let the van door slide into her knee. all of this was on accident, but by the end of the day, i was feeling like a pretty craptastic mama. one of the incidents was a little bit funny, though. i went to get you from your morning nap, and when i pulled you out of your crib, i lifted you high in the air to play elevator with you (we lift you up and make sounds of anticipation before we drop you almost to the floor (we catch you under your arms just short of your toes hitting the floor.) you think this is pretty awesome and it's one of your favorite games). well, i inadvertently stuck your head in the ceiling fan. you are tall. i'm not short. and, i have no depth perception. it also happens that your room is dark, the ceiling fan is white, and the ceiling is white. you whimpered once, and then started laughing. i guess you thought it was funny to get bonked in the head by a fan blade. i, on the other hand, was trying not to cry.

here's to less drama for the remainder of the week, buddy!

love,
mommy