Funny Story

So as I’m folding laundry in the living room I see/hear my son Sam grunting. 

You know what I mean. His cloth diaper wearing tushy is pressed against the floor. His face turning red, hands open/close pumping as he struggles to push. Sam was putting forth his best efforts.

I give him a few minutes to finish his business and then I completely forget about it.

A few minutes later, I finish putting away my daughter, Aislynn’s clothes. As I walk past where the kids are in the dining room, I smell something awful.

I look down.

Aislynn is under the table, relaxing in Sam’s bouncer, talking to him about something. He’s just sitting in the walkway, one hand in the back end of his diaper, the other… flailing.

At this moment,  I realize what’s happening

Calling out to my husband to get me the butt wipes, while I get a fresh diaper. Grabbing an extra pack of wipes just in case.

I get back to Sam, try to assess the situation and come up with a game plan.

Starting with a few wipes and cleaning his hand first.

The thickness is difficult to clean, there is a residual mess left after several fresh wipes. Of course the wipes didn’t want to leave the container correctly, so I had a chain of them like clown scarves exiting the wipe container thereby wasting that many more.

The more I look at my son, the more mess I see needing to be cleaned, there’s spots on his legs, chin, arms, etc.


The easiest way to clean him thoroughly at this point is a fresh warm shower with soap.

I tell my husband to get me some towels from my folded stack and put them in the bathroom while I get Sam ready.

2 minutes hadn’t yet lapsed, Sam was cleaned from head to toe and I was about to give myself a quick wash when Aislynn starts knocking at the door.

She needs to pee.

A one bathroom house and her tiny inconvenient bladder forced me to let her enter.

I stay in the shower with Sam while she does her business only for her to then alert me that she’s going to be a few minutes because now she has to poop.

At this point, Sam has doubled in weight and I’m too dehydrated to continue holding him. I set him down on the tub floor where he then gets fascinated with the tub stopper and floor mat.

Now we’re both clean, sitting under the running shower water waiting for Aislynn to leave the bathroom because

1) I’m not leaving a shower stall that smells like my favorite soaps and shampoos, just to stand in her stench-filled air.

2) It’s cold outside these glass doors and

3) The moment I step out with Sam, she’d be done and then complain about being held hostage in there as we got ready, so we don’t flash anyone or let cold hallway air enter.

So we stayed sitting in the warm tub.


Finally, she’s leaving.

I’m watching through the glass doors, so I can turn the water off when the door latches closed.

She sees me staring and says to stop being creepy, while closing the door at a sloths pace, staring back at me.

No doubt my warm bathroom air has exited the room.

So I give it a few seconds to recoup.

Turn off the water and go to side open the glass shower door when I see that its busted of the railing and won’t budge.

Slight panic sets in as I think I’m now trapped with my son in the shower.

It’s a two-way sliding door.

The other side is unphased and works great.

Relieved, I get us out of there and dried off, etc. and then I remember I still have to dunk and swish his cloth diaper.

sam bath
motherhood is nothing short of exciting funny story
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