Peeps in your pants

Tyler likes to give hugs now
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While we were in the hospital after Tyler's birth, and I was changing the very first diapers that I've ever changed in my entire life, Tyler peed on me. The nurse tried to comfort me by saying that urine is sterile. I would urge you to read about it here (if you've got a moment) before reading this post.

I've come a long way in the last four months. The first time Tyler drooled on me, my stomach turned. I felt very uncomfortable and, to be honest, grossed out. When Tyler drools on me now, I just wipe it on my pants, or onto Delilah if she's around. Dog fur is amazingly absorbant. And, in true dog fashion, she is more than happy to oblige, due strictly to the fact that she is getting the all-powerful human contact that she relies on for survival.

The first time Tyler spit-up on me was a trying time for yours truly. Although I already felt a loving bond between me and my 6 day old son, when he spit-up on me, I was ready to take him back to the hospital to trade him in for a baby that had a properly functioning lower esophageal flap. I'd gladly pay the restocking fee and any upgrade charges associated with the trade-in. Due to the high likelihood of my arrest and/or death (how's that saying go? "Hell hath no fury like a mother whose baby hath been traded-in"), I instead froze in utter terror while Sarah said, "Oh my."

"Get something. Wipe it up. Get it off me!", I begged. Seriously, Sarah will vouch for me on this.

Wiping the cocktail of breastmilk and stomach acid off my arm, Sarah calmly replied, "You're gonna have to get used to this."

Thinking to myself that I wasn't going to hold Tyler again until he got his "The Exorcist"-like behavior under control, I said, "That's doubtful."

Present-day Joe just looks for a burp cloth (lovingly called an urpee in the Gearhart household, and which you can NEVER have too many of) to wipe off onto. I doubt I'll ever be completely comfortable with spit-up, but at least it's a step in the right direction.

Being peed on doesn't really affect me anymore either. I just calmly, and swiftly, intercept the stream with a diaper or an urpee. In the extremely rare situation where there isn't anything within sight, I have in fact blocked the stream with my bare hand. Four months ago, I would have told you that it'd be a cold day in hell before you saw me, of my own free will, put my hand into a pee stream.

A few days ago, while Sarah, Tyler, and myself were playing on the floor, I observed that Tyler was sporting a noticeably larger than normal bulge up front, if you catch my drift.

Just to be sure of my suspicions, I aksed him, "Tyler, do you have peeps in your pants?"

He answered with a big, toothless grin which could mean any number of things. Given the situation, I took it as a "yes". I took his jeans off, unsnapped his onesie and got my supplies ready. I opened up a new diaper, set it next to me, and put a baby wipe on my knee. I turned back to Tyler, and opened up his diaper. The boy definitely filled 'er up to the max. I wiped him off and pulled the dirty diaper away. While I was turned away from Tyler, grabbing the clean diaper, Sarah gasped. I snapped my head back around to see that Tyler wasn't yet finished peeing. Sarah has obviously not dealt with this situation before, as she just sat there, transfixed on the events. Being the seasoned pro that I am, I dropped the new diaper over his squirtgun, but not before Tyler got a mouthful of his own piss.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Tyler peed in his own mouth. I told Sarah to hand me a baby wipe, quickly. As a testament to her inability to truly wrap her head around what just happened, or her mortal fear of using baby wipes for anything other than their intended purpose, she said, "I don't think you're supposed to use them around his mouth."

I had no intention of leaving Tyler with pee in and around his mouth while we went searching for an urpee or a paper towel, so I decided to just take my chances with this one. I felt like MacGruber, diffusing a bomb with a paperclip and a hairbrush. But in this case, the bomb was pee in a baby's mouth, and instead of a paperclip and a hairbrush, I had baby wipes. In Sarah's defense, she immediately went in search of a washcloth while I cleaned Tyler up with a baby wipe.

Tyler was quite a bit less than amused with this chain of events, and voiced his opinion in the form of a scream. I tried comforting him by saying, "It's ok Tyler, pee is sterile." I refused to let the next sentence out of my mouth, but it went something like, "Hahahahahahahahahahahahah, GOTCHA!"

I don't know if this was poetic justice, but it sure felt like it.