Mitchell was in charge of Oliver during a 3 hour ladies spa excursion today. I felt a bit bad that he cried on and off the entire time, per usual. So while I was feeding him after I got home and Mitchell says he needs to help the neighbor "move something" with two beers in his hand, I say go ahead - he deserved a break. And this is what transpired.
A few minutes later while nursing, Oliver loudly craps his pants. I patiently wait for him to finish. I pick him up and realize his back is damp. He managed to poop out of his diaper, through his onesie, shirt, overalls, and into MY pants. I drag him to the sink, peel his sticky layers of clothes off while holding him to stand, get everything out for a bath with one arm, warm up the water and clean off the poo-slick that covers his back from the shoulder blades, on down. During the impromptu "bath" I find myself also counter-spraying his pee spray with the kitchen faucet, and cleaning off spitup from his front.
I take the opportunity to get him in his jammies and into bed. I then change my own pants, throw his outfit away (sometimes, it's just not worth it) and sit on the couch. Mitchell comes back and says, "what's going on?" I don't feel as bad about the crying anymore. ;)
I did capture a shot of the onesie for perspective.
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