Holy Crap!

I know the subject sounds a little crude, but after what I witnessed this afternoon, it is the only expression that will do. At around 1200 a bottle was warmed for sweet little Cooper and a very hungry Tucker. We had given baths to both little ones and dressed them in matching green terry cloth teddy bear onesies with crisp white tennis shoes from Old Navy (Ked's like). They were adorable! I changed a slightly messy diaper for Cooper before handing him off to Dad while I dried my hair (I had just taken a shower myself while little ones took a small nap) and put on my shoes. We had plans to make an outing to visit my former co-workers at Alliance Title. After my hair had been dried and styled I put on my shoes and offered to take Cooper from Daddy so he could go take care of the garbage. Cooper had been eating very slowly so he still had half a bottle left. I picked him up by his bottom and had one hand behind his shoulders and head. He looked so peaceful and drowsy. The next thing out of TK's mouth was an expression I've heard many times before, but this particular instance gave way to a closer examination of the infant in my hands. The simple "whoa!" that escaped my husbands lips was due not at all to a simple misfortune. Upon closer inspection of the little darling in my arms I became aware of the dark, green-ish brown glop that was roughly the consistency of a rich chocolate pudding that had coated not only the entire right leg of said infant, but also his Daddy's shirt in quantities I had never seen come from such a small body. He must have been backed up to his armpits! I know, I have now ruined chocolate pudding for many of you.
Moving on. I was of course disturbed by the sight. What I think was the most disturbing was the layer of "yuck" that was now on the aforementioned crisp white (and brand new) tennis shoes. It was soon on my hands and TK found it hilarious to torment his mother by sharing his lot and wiping it on her un-shoed foot. She was holding Tucker and couldn't defend herself. She sat with her foot in the air until she could get it off. The wipes were swiftly opened and "the cleansing" began. Off came the shoes and socks, which were sent directly to the washer (after a good scrubbing from Daddy) followed by the onesie. The dilemma here was that the only way to remove the outfit was over poor Cooper's head. After some impressive clothing gymnastics the offensive attire was removed without one smudge on his face. His chest, arms and back are another story, but his face was protected.
Lest you forget, may I remind you that the diaper has not even been touched up to this point. So legs and feet were wiped down and the diaper was unleashed. I didn't even bother to put a new one down yet because there would have been no way to keep it clean. So, six wipes later things were looking better. I could see the color of skin again below my baby's belly button. He only stuck his foot in the pile of scariness once. He seemed to like the sensation, squishing it between his toes like mud bath or spa treatment. I however did not find it as pleasant. I had to use a wipe to pick between his toes.
Once the stench of it all had passed and the bowel bomb had been moved to a garbage sack, I looked up just in time for my nice clean accomplishment to become the backdrop for a jet stream of liquid which rose from his "boy parts" and shot over the changing pad onto the only pair of jeans that fit after two surgeries. As quickly as I could I placed the wipe I was using over the source of the stream and watched as the changing pad became soaked and fluid flowed around and under my nice clean baby!!! So, seeing as naturally we had emptied one container of the remainder of it's wipes, a new container was opened and the process of mopping up began. Three more wipes later and the baby was mostly clean while the pad was more than a little wet. A new diaper was put on long enough to move to a more suitable changing arena. That diaper had pee on the outside so it was replaced with a clean one once we were on a blanket on the floor. Then a new clean outfit was dawned and all seemed right with the world again. What was the most amazing part of the ordeal was how calm and collected Cooper was through the entire thing. He just laid there while wipes and diapers and clothing went flying around him in a frenzied blur. What a trooper.
Good news: the shoes, socks, onsie and daddy's shirt were all saved by the washer. :o)
It was quite a morning.