Alligator 1 Mommy 0

Let me preface this by informing the masses: First, I have two children, one of each (a girl "Sizzy" and a boy "Boo") the girl is the eldest (three) and an accident waiting to happen- just like mom! I'm so proud. Second, I don't like anything even remotely related to poop; I don't want to see it, smell it, wipe it, hear a poop related joke, talk about your poop, your kids poop or your dogs! Heaven forbid it touch me or I it. I'm almost phobic! This is therapy... I hope.

That having been said... my son, Boo, is not even a year old, weighs 25 lbs of solid mass, no baby fat on this boy, and is almost 3 feet tall. Changing the boys diaper is like wrestling with an alligator...and trying to get him dressed? Like putting pants on a snake!

Here's a "for instance"...

Boo's crying, so I go to pick him up like the good mommy I am, only to get slapped so hard in the face by the smell of poop I gag the whole way to the changing station, muttering to myself,

"I freaken hate poopy diapers!"

One hand on the boy, the other hand feverishly reaching for a new diaper, wipes, powder (to mask the smell of course) and cream.

SNAP!

I open the diaper one handed, with great flare I must admit, I'm feeling proud. Pull off his socks, because God forbid poop get on his socks! I pull of his pants, tuck his shirt farther up his back. Pull back the tabs of the diaper only to be smacked even harder by the odor of Boo's poo!

"God what did you eat little man? Seriously, it can't be anything mommy gave you."

I give him a noisy light up type toy.

His reply? "bwadadabadamaama uhh," a great pterodactyl like screech and a four toothed grin!

Not the screech! In the distance another screech, a reply screech... from upstairs... then boom, boom, boom down the stairs...
Sizzy weighs 30 pounds soaking wet, is 37 inches tall and is light as a feather, how the hell does she sound like a freaken heard of thunder bunnies when she bounds down the stairs? No, seriously, how? My daughter descends upon us, *screech* and then she laughs boisterously.

"There's my Boo, that's Sizzy's Boo, that's Sizzy's Boo, that's Sizzy's Boo, that's Sizzy's Boo ."

"Okay Sizzy, once is enough."

Sizzy breaks into song "Boo pee doo, booboo pee doo, Boo pee doo, booboo pee doo..."

Which of course gets Boo's attention, he grins, babbles and starts to wiggle... he decides to roll over onto his belly; I still have one hand on him, holding his legs up so I can finish wiping his butt. He flips to the left, taking my right wrist with him. I flip him back just to have him continue the flip to the right, in true alligator fashion so that he's back on his stomach yet again and my wrist is bent in ways a wrist does not need to be bent!

"Sizzy stop distracting him."

"I'm not."

"Yes you are, give him back his toy, go sit in the chair and don't talk back to mommy, that's not nice."

She looks me straight in the eyes, gently rubs her hand down my cheek and wiggles my chin and says to me,

"I'm not, I'm talking to you like I'm talking to you, okay sweet mommy?"

Hmmm I wonder where she learned that.

"Okay sweet Sizzy, now go sit in the chair. Please," the whole time wondering what she just said and if I agreed to something I didn't want to.

"The chair... Sizzy..."

"But he needs his nother toy."

"Noooo, he does not need another toy, he needs his diaper changed... and you need to sit in the chair and stop distracting him ok?"

"He's got poops?"

"Yes."

"I need to help change his pooper diaper?" as she reaches for the diaper. Why pose this as a question and then do it before getting an answer?

"NO, no, no... (God I'm repeating myself!) I have it under control, I appreciate you wanting to help mommy, but not with the diaper," as I continue to alligator wrestle "mommy needs you to please sit in the chair, that'll be a super big helper, okay? Thank you. No don't pick up the poopy diaper, No... I said... Oh! Sizzy that's gross put it down! God you have it all over your hands, uuuuugh (she drops it.) Hey, hey heeeeeey, watch where you're............. stepping?"

F**CK! <-- I am screaming this in my head! "MOMMMMMMIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEE!" and then she starts to cry as she plops onto her butt " I got *sob*... I got *sob*... I, Boo's poopy diaperrrrrr!" She tries to get back up again. "STOP! For the love of God! Do not move, do not put that foot on my carpet... do not do not do not (I'm repeating again! I'm starting to remind my self of the Cat in the Hat WTF?) ... let me wipe off your foot, let me..."

"Here"

"GAH! Why did you stick your foot in my face... OH MY GOD! You got POOP on me! *Gag* Jesus Joseph and Mary! What were you thinking?"

Next stop, dry heave central...

Side Note: Before you post some caustic comment about what a bad mom I am, know this... I know she's three and I understand she doesn't realize there are consequences YET! But sometimes things just fly out of my mouth before my brain hits the emergency stop button! I am human, I am not perfect nor do I claim to be.

So, I'm wishing for disinfectant in mass quantities as I wipe my face off, *shudders at the memory* I wipe off her foot, roll up the diaper...

"Sizzy, where's Boo?"

"He's in the kitchen peepee'ing on the backyard door. Are you gonna wipe poop off my foot more?"

Yes, there he is, my half naked little man with his bigger than life smile, smacking the glass door with his drool covered hands, pee splashing everywhere *sigh* he's probably giving me the one finger salute too.