5 am

I know I posted twice yesterday but keep reading please, and I promise you will not be disappointed.

This morning at 5 am I was up with Echo. She was fussing, but wasn't hungry. Thinking maybe she just needed to burp, I was sitting in my bed, holding her over my shoulder and patting her back. She didn't burp, but she did poop. It was a big one, that instantly came up the back of her diaper and made a big yellow stain on her onesie (one of the onesies I had just purchased on Monday and she was wearing for the first time). I decided to take her downstairs to change her, since that was where her clean onesies were.

We headed down, as we did so, she pooped again. Another big one. More up the back, this time it went as high as her armpits. I knew the onesie was never going to be the same. I walked faster.

I laid her down on the changing pad and opened up the diaper. It wasn't a pretty sight. I tried to remove her onesie, without getting poop on her head. I was unsuccessful. Suddenly the situation turned from unpleasant to a horror movie! She had a projectile poop! It shot off the changing pad onto my arm, the carpet, my dangling hair, and my pajama bottoms. I screamed (I didn't make this up for dramatic effect, I seriously screamed). The poop dripped from my arm as I reached for more wipes and tried to defuse the situation. Then she started to pee. The carpet soaked it up next to the poop that had already claimed a spot. I tried to move faster but it was no use, I'd already lost the battle.

A billion wipes and several minutes later Echo was clean and redressed. I looked at the mess and felt like I had been through a war. The house was still silent and I knew that the rest of the family had slept through the entire thing and I envied their innocence.

What did I learn from this experience? Baby poop is a force to be reckoned with, and cleaning it out of the carpet at 5:15 in the morning is not rewarding at all.

The end.