I haven't posted in a few days because William and I have been pretty busy. Yesterday we had ECFE in the morning, a couple of errands to run in the afternoon and then haircuts for the whole family around dinnertime.
Today I met three of my former coworkers downtown for lunch while William spent that time with his daddy. Brian's office is across the street from the place where we were lunching so it was pretty convenient.
On the way home I decided to make a pit stop at the gas station by our house to fill up and get a car wash. The temperature is supposed to dip below zero this weekend so I wanted to get a rinse now to prevent the doors from freezing shut on me if I waited too late. This is something that has, unfortunately, happened to me before. As I was swinging around the back side of the gas station to go through the wash I realized I wasn't the only one who had this idea. I was sixth or seventh in line.
"Oh well," I thought, "I'll kill some time playing around with William in the car and then throw him down for a nap when we get home."
The car wash line took us 40 minutes. I'm not exaggerating. But I'm also not complaining because William was really good and very patient for a one-year-old.
When we got home he was showing all the signs of tiredness so I whipped off his pants to change his diaper before putting him in his crib. And there, folks, was my surprise.
Over and over I kept saying, "William, what did you eat?!" So you can pretty much guess the details from there. It was all over. It reminded me of the days when he was a newborn. Down both legs and up his shirt. But unlike a newborn it was virtually impossible to change him. I grabbed an old towel to lay him on to protect my carpeting. Every time he rolled over and I screamed for him to stop, he thought it was hilarious and tried to do it again.
After ten minutes of wiping and washing I finally got him cleaned up and in new clothes. My hands are like paper from the 80 times I scrubbed them with soap and water. I know I've been a mom now for almost 14 months and I should be used to it, but I still can't get over the "ick" factor. At least now I've got bragging rights the next time Brian complains about changing a diaper.
Today I met three of my former coworkers downtown for lunch while William spent that time with his daddy. Brian's office is across the street from the place where we were lunching so it was pretty convenient.
On the way home I decided to make a pit stop at the gas station by our house to fill up and get a car wash. The temperature is supposed to dip below zero this weekend so I wanted to get a rinse now to prevent the doors from freezing shut on me if I waited too late. This is something that has, unfortunately, happened to me before. As I was swinging around the back side of the gas station to go through the wash I realized I wasn't the only one who had this idea. I was sixth or seventh in line.
"Oh well," I thought, "I'll kill some time playing around with William in the car and then throw him down for a nap when we get home."
The car wash line took us 40 minutes. I'm not exaggerating. But I'm also not complaining because William was really good and very patient for a one-year-old.
When we got home he was showing all the signs of tiredness so I whipped off his pants to change his diaper before putting him in his crib. And there, folks, was my surprise.
Over and over I kept saying, "William, what did you eat?!" So you can pretty much guess the details from there. It was all over. It reminded me of the days when he was a newborn. Down both legs and up his shirt. But unlike a newborn it was virtually impossible to change him. I grabbed an old towel to lay him on to protect my carpeting. Every time he rolled over and I screamed for him to stop, he thought it was hilarious and tried to do it again.
After ten minutes of wiping and washing I finally got him cleaned up and in new clothes. My hands are like paper from the 80 times I scrubbed them with soap and water. I know I've been a mom now for almost 14 months and I should be used to it, but I still can't get over the "ick" factor. At least now I've got bragging rights the next time Brian complains about changing a diaper.
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