Rocket Poo

Two nights ago, I woke up in a dazed stupor to nurse the babies at 2am. Typically the boys get their diapers changed and then it's time for the feeding frenzy. Reid was up first.

I routinely unfastened his diaper by the light of the "3's Company" episode on television. I took a wipey and began to wipe a tiny bit of poo off his tiny little bum. In a flash, I felt a splash hit my right arm and before I could utter any words, I let out a yelp, waking my snoring husband and prompting him to fly out of bed and hit the lights.

My little angel had projectile pooped on me. I've never seen anything like it, and working in the field of early childhood I've changed many a diaper in my day. I looked down to find poo on my shirt, shorts, sheets, comforter, Reid's jammies, a pillow...the list goes on.

Ben's laughter still resounds in my head. To top it off, Carter threw up on our bed first thing the next morning. This is only the beginning, I told myself as I prepared a fresh batch of laundry.