Monkey Mama

Sometimes when Jacob wakes up, he’s peed out of his diaper and his jammies are a bit wet, so after I plopped him on the floor recently and found my own shirt a little moist, I shrugged it off. I SHOULD have changed him right there and then, but my belly was already squealing, and Daddy was nowhere to be found. Lifting him again was just not an option. What’s a little wetness among friends, right? He’d get changed soon enough.

Onward we went, into the kitchen for a little chocolate soy milk and Gorilla Munch (Gilla lunch!) cereal. A few minutes into breakfast, I noticed some water spots on the kitchen floor. Huh? There’s no milk with the Gilla Lunch. Then I notice that Jacob, still in his feety pajamas, is sloshing around the kitchen. How are his feet wet? And then I go in to check the front of his diaper, and all I get is a feel of little toddler penis through his jammies. I should not be feeling little toddler penis, I should be feeling crinkly full diaper. Did Daddy FORGET to put the diaper on last night? I’m still dazed and confused, not seeing the reality in front of me.

And so I strip my kid, right in the kitchen, and somehow, Jacob has made his way into his bottoms (which snap to the tops, making it very difficult to get little hands down the pants) and pulled down the front of his diaper. I’m both shocked at my pee covered son, who has no sense of self-consciousness, and kind of amazed at the MacGuyvering skill that allowed him to do this to himself.

The worst part? The part that goes on my list of embarassing mother acts? I scooped up the naked boy, and with an eye on the clock and not enough time for a bath, gave him a sponge bath with Baby Wipes and put on his nice Christmas outfit and sent him off to Josh’s school for the day. Smelling a bit like pee. Where, oh where, is my handbasket?