Yesterday, I was on the phone with my mom, deeply involved in a conversation as I always am when she calls, when Harper started fussing a bit. I told my mom, “Oh, she just wants some attention.” as I picked her up and moved her to a new location in the living room. She calmed down, as she always does when presented with a toy and location she has seen for five minutes. So I went on with the conversation.
Some time passed. I felt something moist on my robe. I looked down and saw I has brown stuff all over me.
It took a minute to register, I was covered in poo. Harper wanted attention because she had the blow out of her life, and rather than fixing it, I had inadvertently wiped it all over myself. I have heard if situations like this, called Poojinked. And so, I cleaned us both up, and went on with my day. Shit happens.
When putting the baby to sleep last night, I was rocking her in my arms softly singing a lullaby. Her eyelids were heavy, body limp and soft, nuzzling in under my chin when I felt something wet. She peed on me. I don’t know how it happened, but it did. It was worse than the poo, in that it soaked my clothes and body.
There was a time, after we had the baby, I considered it a major accomplishment if I got dressed that day. I thought, with time, I would be able to put myself together with more ease. Now it is just an accomplishment to not be covered in baby waste.