A shitty day

In my line of work I deal with a lot of shit. No, I don't "take shit off of people". Wait. Yes, I do. I take shit off of little people. I literally take it off their pudgy little baby buns with a wet-wipe.

Today I changed approximately 16 shitty diapers, usually 4 back-to-back, within minutes of each other. One of these was a masterpiece by JackJack. I'm talking a down the legs, up the back, all over his onesie type of masterpiece only produced by the (usually and thankfully) under-2 year old set.

I discovered this masterpiece when I picked him up out of the bouncy seat and smelled a stench that is a dead giveaway that something has gone awry in the diaper region. I did what most every parent or caregiver does - I pulled the leg of his diaper open to assess the damage - and pulled back a thumb covered in baby doo. Now, I've been doing this baby thing for 20 years now and don't consider myself a novice, wimp or weenie when it comes to all things diaper, but man, this one produced a gag from me. I then held the poor little dude out at arm's length and carried him to the changing table, tainted digit held out away from him, mind you, which wasn't easy considering it was a thumb.

Princess and Little Nicky watched in awe, mixed with what I think was horror, as their normally steadfast and unflinching Kiki gagged, moaned, grimaced and blinked back tears while trying to decide just how to take care of this mess. I first considered the water hose - just taking him outside and hosing him down - but it was a cooler day and figured that wouldn't go over well. Then I thought that maybe a bath was in order, but then what to do with the other four children in my care? Leave them with Kady in charge? I think not. So I went with Plan C - a box of wet-wipes, a plastic bag for the clothes and prayers asking God for courage for what I was about to experience.

But in the meantime, before I could even start on cleaning up the toxic mess running out of his diaper, I had to get the poo off of my thumb. I first grabbed a wet-wipe from the box and wiped off the biggest part of it, then got another wet-wipe to get the rest, then one more to do a recon mission, just in case I missed some with the first one, this time going under the fingernail to scrape out any hiding under there. The compulsive in me considered one more, but I fought back the urge and instead went straight for the economy-size bottle of Germ-X. I pumped about four very generous globs of gellatinous alcohol into my palm and rubbed furiously, my eyes starting to water again from the alcohol fumes mixed with poop fumes. Then I quickly buckled the baby and ran to the kitchen to wash my hands with antibacterial soap, then ran back for more Germ-X.

In the meantime I realized that I had pulled my thumbnail back from the skin underneath when I attacked it with a wet-wipe-covered fingernail and oohhhhh thinking of an open wound filled with baby-shit germs sent all kinds of thoughts to my brain - mainly septic shock from poop germs introduced directly into soft tissue. So I grabbed the economy-sized bottle of Germ-X once more and pumped directly onto and under my thumbnail and in the process, taught the kids a new word.

Granted, I'm not sure their parents will be glowing with pride when they show this one off to family members, complete strangers in Wal*Mart and the pastor, but well, the only word that seemed fitting was


Shit.