Dirty, Rotten, Scoundrels

37 Weeks

When you're a sleepy mom, you make sleepy decisions—if you can remember that you need to make them. It was a little late in the day to be doing so but Ren needed a bath. "We'll do a quick one," I told him. He said, "Goo" and we forged on. Simple. Ren goes in the playpen. I go to our room to turn on the water then go to get Ren and get him undressed in his. It's always a gamble—those seconds from the changing table in Ren's room to the bath in ours. It's a gamble IN the bath too, but for the most part the water usually stay purely water. I put Ren back in the play pen, sans diaper, and leave on the onesie (for some reason). I check on the bath and turn off the water. It's just right. Not too hot but in that spot where you don't want it to sit too long or it will be too cold. Tub time is now. 

I grab Ren and see a runny, brown mess where he was just laying. I feel wet warmth on my hip. 

"Crap."

It's a lot. I take him back to his changing table. I lay him down knowing I'll need to wash everything near him. He's pretty squirmy. I pull off the onesie and he reaches down to explore. I'm unable to block him in time. 

"Crap."

A handful. And he's still covered waist to feet. I lay my arm across his body to keep him from flipping over and use my other arm to hold his dirty hand away from his mouth. I'll need to wash everything near me after this. I await for a pause in his fight to release and grab more wipes. Somehow I get him relatively clean. I brush a tickle away from my face. I feel something damp. And slimy. 

"Crap."

It's in my hair. I hold him down with one hand while I pull my dress up and off, over my head. I figure it will wipe some of it away. I won't be showering until Ren goes to sleep in a few hours. What's a little 'mousse' gonna hurt? Moving on. We're both relatively clean. I'll need to warm up the bath by now so I'll grab some wipes to clean out the playpen and start all over again. I turn to do just that and...

"Crap."

There are footprints of it behind me. From the new carpet in our bedroom to the new carpet in his. I have to get that up before it sets. Right? Yeah, you do...

We go downstairs to get the carpet cleaner and paper towels and I catch a glimpse of the two of us in a mirror. That's a lot of pale skin and a dirty smudges here and there. Ren's still teething. Sleep deprivation is wearing on us both. We look like Lucy and Little Ricky of A Clockwork Orange. 

I climb the stairs in my underwear with a naked baby under one arm and stain fighters under the other. At the top, I see a silhouette of the dog. He is bent over and convulsing—vomiting the medication I'd given him earlier that evening. I forgot to feed him first. "Shit."