Today in Holy Crap: Isaac is Mobile

Grandma has been providing free child care for a couple of weeks, while Shannon goes to work and I go to get yelled at by South Bronx 12 year olds. Today, Isaac got to play on his mat for a minute while grandma washed some bottles and some grandma. Apparently, this location was not ideal, and he somehow scooted/rolled himself a full 3 feet off the mat, managing to get wedged under the coffee table before finally calling out for help. Isaac is now capable of moving.

This is like a whole new frontier in being a parent. Before, he was loud, he was screamy, he was barfy and poopy, but he was stationary. If you needed to go to the bathroom, or to the kitchen to fix a bottle, we could trust him in the middle of the bed, or on the couch, or on the oversized ottoman. We can't do that now. And this is just plain terrifying.

The closest we've come to baby-proofing the apartment to this point was to put the lube in a drawer, and now everything has to be thought about. Shoes in the entryway? Nooooooo. Don't put your pants on the floor, dad. And careful with the TV, Dave. Babies love to play with those.

Stupid growing-too-fast baby.

I'll see your South Bronx and raise you an epic blowout.

Let me just say that this was so bad I had to change my own clothes before I could even begin to work on the babe. From here on out, all diaper edges will be sealed with duct tape.

For some reason it smelled like horse manure.

This is the inside of his once cute outfit.

I considered cutting it off of him so I wouldn't have to drag it over his head.

List of items damaged in event:

1. Monkey onesie

2. Monkey footie pants

3. Sleep sack

4. Changing table cover

5. Mommy's tank top

6. Mommy's pants

7. Mommy's will to live

Who Knows What Evil Lurks in the Butts of Men?

The Diaper Genie Knows.

Oh holy god. I mean, I've dealt with poop. I've been walking dogs for 20 years. I've lived with my dad and my brother and myself. I've marveled at the weird lady poops that somehow make the bathroom smell better. I've marveled at the weird lady poops that peel the f-ckin' paint. But I have never, ever, EVER, dealt with anything like what I just dealt with. It was like a butterscotch colored diaper genocide. Only it didn't stay in the diaper. It went f-ckin' EVERYWHERE. That towel on the changing table will never recover. Good thing the landlords in NYC have to repaint the walls. I have no idea how I got poop on the back of my hand, but damned if I didn't. Ditto both of his heels. Right now, there is a diaper genie in an apartment in New York that is being forced to deal with horrors. HORRORS.

Isaac Photo Load 3

Two things about this child: first, he can really poop. Second, he's really cute. He gets the poopin' thing from his mom, and the cuteness thing from me. Or the other way around. I get tired and forgetful these days.

But mostly, perhaps more true than any other true thing ever, Isaac can really poop.