Oh the Messes You'll Make

Messes. They're the sine qua non of babyhood, right? Cleaning up under the high chair after every meal and every snack. Doing more laundry than I ever knew was possible. Toys EVERYWHERE. These messes, while a nuisance, are tolerable.

Then there are the messes that are a bit more of a strain. Especially on our gag reflexes. A week ago it was Bry throwing up all over his crib and then subsequently lying back down in the contents of his stomach. So at midnight we got to peel off his pajamas, dunk him in the bath, change the sheets, start the laundry, put him back down and hope for the best.

Two days ago, Bry stuffed a plateful of cantaloupe into his mouth, neglected to chew, and then apparently attempted to swallow the whole lot of it. His gag reflex kicked in (this is a good thing), followed by the contents of his stomach again being heaved across the table, his high chair, the floor, and into the trough of his bib (this is not a good thing). Cue stripping Bry down, dunking him in the bath, starting the laundry, etc.

And then there was tonight. Bry seemed uninterested in dinner. He pushed away the veggie burger, quinoa, mixed veggies, and tofu we attempted to feed him and steadfastly demanded "nana!" the whole time. We relented and gave him more cantaloupe (which Bry also calls "nana"). And then halfway through the meal, Bry screwed up his face into his "I'm pooping" look. I sighed and thought briefly to myself, "Can I wait until the end of the meal to change him?" The answer was no. I went to pick him up and noticed that his back was disconcertingly wet. This was on account of the diarrhea that had shot out the back of his diaper. EWWWWW. And so, once again, Bry was in the bath earlier than intended and we fired up the washing machine one more time.

After the emergency bath, Steve and I looked at each other resignedly about the state of the kitchen, across which the detritus of Bry's many attempted and discarded meal options were strewn. Another mess to clean up. Bry was as chipper as usual, babbling to himself over the dry toast that we offered to settle his stomach. I peered back at Steve hopefully, "Maybe the power of Bry's cuteness can take care of this mess." Unfortunately, the answer was again no.