Aw the joys of motherhood.
There’s nothing like being woken up three times by something wet and slightly cool on your back.
Oliver’s dessicated umbilical stump still hasn’t fallen off and I have to fold his size 1 diapers down so that they don’t cover up the nasty, black thing.
I’ve tried cutting a cute little 1/2 circle in the “waist band” of the diaper but that ended with a leaky diaper and tiny little absorbent balls in Oliver’s diaper. [Those are a bitch to clean off, just so you know.]
Anyway, I thought I had this whole “turn down the diaper to avoid the black thing” down but last night humbled me…and left me wet.
Three time, count them, three times [!!!] Oliver started fussing at the breast for no good reason.
Since it was almost midnight and I was half asleep, I patted Ollie’s back and relatched the trash talking infant so that I could drift back into a late night stupor. By the third or fourth pat I felt a damp patch of fuzzy sleeper on Oliver’s back. The part of the sheet directly under the damp fuzzy sleeper was soaked.
Damn.
I fully regained consciousness, changed the partially asleep infant, and snuggled back into bed.
Twenty minutes later I did it all again.
By the third time, I was genuinely pissed and was cussing that stupid, freaky black stump.
Luckily, neither Oliver nor Tucker awoke and I was left with the realization that not only was I the only one who was awake but that I was on the verge of hollering at an inanimate object that’s attached to my son’s stomach.
Imagine, if you will, a haggard looking 20 something woman changing an infant’s diaper at 3 am and all the while cussing.
Yeah…I looked a little bit crazy.
