We spent Saturday night at my mother in law's house. Cohen sleeps in a play pen in the guest room with us when we are there. We put her down to bed at 9 and by the time we came into bed at midnight she had rolled onto her stomach and was asleep flat on her face. Okay, not really flat, but her head was not fully turned to one side. I had to flip her over. I couldn't sleep like that. The first flip was successful, in that she did not wake and we got into the creaky bed and began to fall right to sleep. Then we hear... rustle, rustle, rustle... For the next hour Cohen did everything she could (in her sleep) to roll back over onto her stomach.
Dan suggests I get up and check on her. Dan suggests I get up and move the big box of diapers blocking our complete view of her. Dan protests he cannot get up to do these things because the dog is laying on his side of the bed and it would be too hard to get up. I get up. I go to move the diapers, but there is junk all over the floor from when I asked Dan to empty out the playpen so I could put her in it at 9 and he just threw everything over the side. I grab the box by the flaps and it creaks so loudly I freeze waiting for Cohen's cry. Nothing. A flip flop. A rustle. I get back into bed with a huge creak. Dan whispers, "Way to go ninja". She is awake, flipping, flopping, and non stop working on rolling back onto her stomach.
As we are both drifting off to sleep Dan suggests, "Why don't you just keep an eye on her". This elicits the kind of anger that comes when he suggests I feed our daughter in the bathroom of the restaurant or when I am holding the baby and sorting through groceries to cook dinner and he tells me he is going to go take a bath. I whisper-scream, "Do you mean that I should keep an eye on her while you close your eyes and go to sleep!!" He said he just meant it was hard for him to see her from his side of the bed - and right when I had him. Just when I could have ripped into that lame excuse, I ripped ass instead. Mid argument he looked at me like a helpless doe and asked, "Did you just fart?" I felt like the Grinch pre-change of heart, pleased with the gas I had worked so hard all night to conceal. Yes. "Yes I did, did you catch that?" With his shirt pulled up over his nose I left him in bed to go check on Cohen again. I flipped her back over. Dan spent the rest of the night facing the other direction, until he could not take the heat on his leg anymore and went to sleep on the couch. He took the baby with him and I got to sleep in.
I can tell at this point a few of you might be feeling sorry for Dan. Don't. He's had this blog coming for a few weeks now.
Last night, during a dinner party at my mother in law's house, while playing a game of pass the baby, I noticed she was wet and asked Dan to go change her. He complied. Moments later he screams. His mother runs into the room to find him dangling our baby upside down by her feet and covered in baby poop. Both of them covered in baby poop. The poopy diaper is laying open, poop side down on the bed in the guest room. Dan is gagging and acting as if acid has been poured directly into his eyes. I tell him to relax, it's only baby poop. He exclaims, "No. It's gross and it's poop and it's on me. No one should ever have to have poop on them, no matter what it comes from."
It's not entirely his fault. The guy is a poop charmer, a turd tamer, luring all things shit related into his direction with the slightest of efforts. I cannot tell you how many nights he has come home from work, tired, grouchy, and excited to see Coco. Within 15 minutes of being on her father's lap she explodes and fills her pants with poop. This happened nightly for at least two months. So, while I can see his disgust, what I wonder is how he got along pulling things out of our dog's butt for so long before we had this baby. Our dog Alby has had quite a few mystery poops, where whatever he ate won't come out without a fight. I have watched my husband wrestle miscellaneous objects from our Bulldog's ass more times than I have seen him empty a dishwasher or make a bed. Cohen just pooped. If you'll excuse me, it seems even when I write about her father his laxative like effects work their magic on our daughter.
This is Cohen "caught in the act" pooping on Dan today when he arrived home from work.