Monday, December 08, 2008

In praise of Huggies wipes

Yesterday five precious babies were baptized and welcomed into our church family. Four girls and a boy from four families (including a set of twin girls) and I knew all of them. I felt like I really was a part of the church family, ready to invest in the lives of those little ones and help the parents by providing meals or lending a listening ear or working in the nursery. Which is exactly how I got poop on my forehead yesterday morning.

It was our turn in the toddler room. Things had gone so well - no major meltdowns, no sharing incidents, no inconsolable two year olds – I was ready to mark the morning a huge success. It was almost time for the parents to come so I sent Michael and Amy around the room to do a smell check and see if anyone needed a diaper change. Amy brought me Alison, an adorable little girl with a sweet smile, beautiful blond curls and an agreeable personality to boot. I hoisted her up on the changing table and as I pulled her tights down the waistband on the tights caught on the Velcro diaper tag which opened the diaper full of wet poo. I didn’t realize this until I yanked harder on the tights which pulled away from the diaper tag, allowing the diaper to spring loose and fling poop on my forehead and in my hair.

Stunned, I stood motionless for a nanosecond until Amy, who was waiting to take Alison back to play, looked at me and nearly threw up. “Mom! You have poop on you!”

That child has a firm grasp of the obvious.

She was kind enough to wipe it out of my hair and off my eyebrows; I would have done it myself but I had poop all over my hands. I’d forgotten what an exploded diaper looks like.

The tights were toast but I managed to keep the girl’s dress poop-free. Fifty wipes later the poop was gone, the girl was redressed and back to playing with the shopping cart. I scrubbed my hands and prepared to move to the next dirty butt. Amy, however, was still focused on my forehead and hair, and declared her desire to remain childless. At that moment I did not blame her.

I couldn’t help but think about the flying poop during the babies’ baptisms last night. When our pastor asked the congregation if we’d be willing to help the parents of these little ones and everyone said, “I will,” I’m pretty sure no one thought about having poop flung at them. Good thing, too. It’s hard enough to get good help in the nursery as it is.