It’s Friday and that means it’s time for Fatherhood Friday over at Dad-Blogs. Head over there after you get done here to check out the wicked cool dad (and mom) bloggers who hang out there.
Every hitter, no matter how exceptional he is, goes through slumps. Instead of belting the pitch out of the park, he’s hitting weak ground balls and easy pop ups. Or even worse, striking out completely. As parents, we are not immune to slumps either. And right now, I’m the David Ortiz of fatherhood.
It all started last week while I was changing Will’s diaper. As you all know, I change the vast majority of diapers in the Daddy Files house. And after 18 months, I’ve changed thousands of Will’s diapers. His piss-soaked, crap-filled, raunchy diapers. But whether it was Will peeing on me, dealing with explosive diarrhea or — even worse — getting poop on my hands, I have to say I handled it like a champ. Sure I may have gagged once or twice, but I always managed to pull through.
I smelled his disgusting deuce out in the living room. It was bad, but I thought nothing of it. When we got into the nursery and I undid his diaper, I was met with a particularly foul odor and one of his more craptastic attempts at #2. I gagged a little as I reached for the wipes, but I soldiered on.
But the gagging continued. And then I started retching. Soon I felt that familiar sensation that reminded me of my college days when I drank too much, and I realized I had passed the point of no return.
And then I puked.
Thankfully I was able to force most of it back down, but a little spewed out of my mouth, through my fingers and onto my shirt. Eighteen months of puke-free diaper changing and now I decide to yak? Will giggled at my grossed out facial expressions, but I wasn’t laughing. And unfortunately for me, it was merely a sign of things to come.
On Wednesday I was running late and rushing around the house trying to get Will ready for daycare. As I was ushering him out of our bedroom and into the hallway, I turned to close the door. Except it wouldn’t close. So I quickly tried again and that’s when I heard a devastating shriek.
Will had stuck his fingers in the back side of the door and I closed the door on his poor little fingers. Twice.
Later that night, I was trying to cook some dinner. I was feeling lazy so I grabbed one of those instant Japanese noodle microwavable meals. I followed the directions, which said to empty the packets into the bowl, fill with water and then microwave for 3 and a half minutes. Well, I missed one packet. So I cooked the damn thing for 3 and a half minutes and took it out of the microwave, only to find melted plastic in my supper. Yum.
Then last night MJ surprised us by getting home early from work. She suggested we go to Friendly’s for some food and an ice cream sundae. I was delighted. Dinner was good and the ice cream better. Will also enjoyed it immensely, even more so because the waitress gave him a bright blue balloon. He was infatuated with it, especially because he just learned to say “bawoon” and it was so cute watching him play with it. We took it home, and MJ tied it to his wrist so he wouldn’t lose it.
When we got home and took Will out his car seat, MJ handed me the balloon so she could unbuckle him. She also made sure to tell me “hold onto this and don’t lose it.” I snarled at her for thinking that I was that dumb. That I was an idiot. That I was that incompetent that I couldn’t hold onto a balloon for…
I never finished my thought because the balloon suddenly slipped from my hand and began floating toward the heavens.
I used my 2-inch vertical desperately tried to harness my athletic prowess in order to jump up and retrieve the balloon, but I was too late. As I sheepishly turned back toward the car my only hope was that Will was still in the car seat and hadn’t seen his father’s stupid mistake. But that hope was dashed when I saw his pitiful face and sad eyes tracking the ascending balloon. Then he frowned, leveled his eyes at me and said “Dada…bawoon?”
Those words might as well have been bullets fired straight at my heart. Usually Will can be distracted when presented with some of his favorite toys, but for a solid 20 minutes he just kept looking at me, then the sky and muttering “bawoon?”
Unfortunately, I wasn’t done there.
After Will’s bath we let him run around naked. It’s his favorite time of the day. As he ran back and forth across the room I was talking to MJ and not really paying attention to him. He likes it when I chase him, and he screamed to let me know he wasn’t too pleased with me ignoring him. So I ran around to the other side of the bed to chase him and…
I stepped in poop. Human poop. Will’s poop.
Apparently, in his diaperless state, he decided to drop off the Cleveland Browns on our bedroom floor and not tell us. I froze. In a panic. MJ must have seen the horrified expression on my face because she came right over…AND STARTED LAUGHING! As for me, I was feeling the same sensation from earlier in the week during my ill-fated diaper change. Without saying a word, I fled the room and — once again — puked in my mouth.
But I wasn’t done yet.
MJ had to clean it up because I had already proven myself a huge wuss. I went back in the bedroom, but I didn’t want to step on the spot where Will’s poops had landed. So instead of walking around to the other side of the bed, I decided to be Mr. Manly Dad and climb over the foot of our bed. Which is all well and good, except our bed is EXTREMELY high. As I was climbing over the foot board, MJ said “be careful, you’re going to pull a muscle or –”
That was all she could get out before I was howling in pain from a muscle pull in my side that had rendered me immobile on the bed. To add insult to injury, my son took this opportunity to climb on my back, straddle me, and ride me like I was a bull at a rodeo. I guess he was still pissed about his balloon. MJ stood there and laughed.
Now I’m laying on the couch with a pulled muscle, vomit taste in my mouth, the remnants of poop on my foot and a son who keeps asking daddy why he lost his balloon.
That, my friends, is officially a Daddy Slump.