Jul
25
Lucy has a propensity for ginormous poopy explosions. They are truly magnificent, in volume and frequency. Moving her into a bigger size diaper has made no difference. She is simply an extraordinary pooper.
However, I am the only one who can appreciate her special skill, because I am the only one who truly experiences them.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying I’m the only one who changes diapers in our house. I’m not. Dave changes diapers. Wet diapers. Even the occasional poopy diaper, though he tries to avoid it. But poopy explosions? NO WAY.
I explained it like this to my BBF Karly when she asked if Dave cleaned up the poopy explosion that hit on my birthday: The only way Dave would clean up a poopy explosion is if my arms were amputated and, even then, only after I’d proven I couldn’t do it with my feet.
Poopy explosions are Dave’s kryptonite; they render him completely helpless. The moment Lucy shows the slightest inclination that a poopy is in the works, he flees the scene. He happened to be holding her once when the launch sequence began. He immediately pushed her away from him and held her like a bomb. Then he tossed her to me, like a grenade as he ran away saying, “Here’s the baby. I think she needs changed.”
Dave would tell you that I’m overstating the situation. I offer the following incident from last Sunday as evidence to the contrary.
Dave was holding Lucy. I was downstairs in the family room playing Guitar Hero, because if I didn’t get fifteen minutes to blow off some steam, someone was going to have their face ripped off. I knew something was up when I could hear stomping and groaning over the music I had turned up to eleven. And then it started.
Dave: “HONEY? HONEY!”
Me: “Yes?”
Dave: “WHERE ARE THE DIAPERS?”
Me: (to Dave) “In the diaper caddy!” (to myself) “Dumbass.”
Dave: (suddenly sounding like a whiny 12-year-old) “BUT THERE AREN’T ANY IN THERE!!!”
Me: (to Dave) “Then try the changing table!!” (Seriously? Is that so hard to figure out? Think about it: if you were a diaper, where would you be?)
Dave: “AH, BUT…WELL…CAN YOU…? AHHHHHH, NEVERMIND!!!”
Me: “WHAT?!”
Dave: “Nah. You’re busy…”
And so I turned off my game and stomped up the stairs to “help,” but it was too late. He was determined to “do it on his own,” which meant he was hellbent on showing me how incredibly difficult the task was by exaggerating every agonizing step of the diaper changing process.
He held his hands like a surgeon who’d just washed up for an operation and ripped baby wipe after baby wipe out of the container. He groaned and gagged with each wipe, then turned in circles looking for a place to put the soiled items. He finally settled on the table. My dining room table. And when the struggle was over, he left the debris lie and dragged himself to the couch, sat there and sighed. For ten minutes.
I contemplated killing him, but instead, I cleaned up the dining room table and said, “You know, you left the dirty diaper on the table.”
“Oh. Sorry. I was gonna get that.”
“Uh-huh. So, where did you put her poopy outfit? I need to wash it out before it stains.”
“Oh, she didn’t get any on her outfit.”
“So, it wasn’t really a poopy explosion.”
“OH NO IT WAS! It got all over me!!! I had to go and change my shorts and everything!”
“When did you change your shorts?”
“Before I changed the baby.”
“And where was the baby?”
“I gave her to your mom.”
He actually tried to pass off the poopy explosion to my mom, first! The creep.
And then he said, “Yeah, but she was no help. She left it all up to me.”
“Gee Dave, I WONDER HOW THAT FEELS!”
Stinkin’ poop-fearing girly man. It’s a good thing he’s good in bed. Otherwise, he’d be dead. Or at least kicked in the weiner.
Comments
17 Cool Kids Commented
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Men they’re all alike I swear – but man, don’t tell them that! They have an excuse for everything!
Seriously though, I had dejavu reading this post.
Actually, when John sets his mind to cleaning something up, he usually does a better, more thorough job than I do. It’s getting him in the mindset to do it. He usually puts whatever it is off the first six times I ask (which is why unless I wasn’t around, he didn’t change many diapers back in the day…). Part of it is just that we have different priorities when it comes to getting things done. I swear though, why do we always have these kind of stories to tell about the guys? What stories are they telling about us?
As if the title for this piece wasn’t enough to make me snort, that last line sent up the mightiest guffaw ever.
You da best Leslie.
And yes, he da worst.
Why can’t boys touch oogie stuff??
I have to agree with Jenn…the title and the closing line were HILARIOUS. I’m pretty sure that Dave deserves to be kicked in the weiner even if he is good in bed. Just do it early in the morning so he’ll be good to go at bed time.
I really wish I could see you play Guitar Hero. We need to hook up sometime. Will you promise me that you’ll go to BlogHer with me next year? Let’s, like, make a blood oath or something. But without the blood.
And thanks for linking to that picture. I got the giggles again when I saw it!
[...] After today’s post Dave waits for Lucy to poop to change the diaper [...]
HAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Poop Fairy !!!!!! Oh, I love it…. and you too. You always make me smile.
(((HUGS)))
Oh wow, I’m not looking forward to all that again. Especially since, while Hot Guy will change poop explosions, he thinks that if he does he is absolved from all other responsibilities for the rest of the day.
Men!
Actually, hon, I think that 95% of the fatherly population suffer from this malaise – much to the chagrin of mothers everywhere. Also, in my experience, this pertains to cat litter as well.
But what an entertaining read…I LOVED this He was determined to “do it on his own,” which meant he was hellbent on showing me how incredibly difficult the task was by exaggerating every agonizing step of the diaper changing process.
Okay I couldn’t let that title pass by in my feeds without commenting–seriously the best title I’ve seen in ages.
A kick to the weiner would render him even more ineffectual… so you did good by staying calm.
I remember once when Jachin was a baby, Jon lifted him out of the baby tub just in time for Jachin to poop. Naked. No diaper. Jon freaked out and just kind of spun around in circles. Poop hit every wall in the bathroom. It was frickin hilarious. All men are incompetent with poop.
“Stinkin’ poop-fearing girly man,” hee hee! At least (?) he called you honey.
If only there really were a poop fairy, sigh….
Yeah, my hubby hates the poop…but he is the one to deal with puke, and is fine…figure that one out!!
Hello.This is first time for me to visit your site.
I have three children (6year-old boy,4year-old boy,2year-old girl)
My daughter often takes off diaper by herself,
and, yes, there are some acccidents.She is trying potty training this summer.
I’m happy if you link to my site.It is written in Japanese but show pictures.
http://baratchfamilykidspets.blogspot.com/
That was hilarious!!
I’m laughing to tears right now! I’m pretty sure our husbands could be best friends!
Bah! Men and their poopy diapers.
Is he at least good at making you cocktails and rubbing your feet after a hard day of diaper changing?
Please say yes.
I am having a blast going through your postings…damn, I wish I found you earlier, but am sooooo happy to have found you and added you to MY blogroll! This is hysterical and almost true in every case….I must admit, my Eddie was an angel when it came to the baby body excrement—I could NOT, under any circumstances, clean out noses…the mucus thing made be gag and I really even puked once! But my Excrement Fairy Eddie could handle it all! Now, he just can’t handle MY body excrements-um, nightsweats!