Poo.

I picked Alex up from daycare yesterday and off to the grocery store we went. The shoppers were not exactly in tune with their surroundings, so the task of completing our list took a lot longer than usual. And then upon inspection of the receipt, I realized the cashier double charged us for our french fries and olive oil. Now the fries I wasn't hell bent on going and getting the credit for, but the olive oil? It was $7.99. I am willing to pay the eight bucks once, but not twice. So to make a long shopping trip longer we had to head over to customer service to get a credit. Alex was in a great mood the entire time. Smiling at the butcher, giggling at the faces I was making, talking to his nuk. And I am thinking, Yeah! We've got this having a baby and still functioning like normal humans thing down!

We get home and as I'm talking to Kari while holding Alex I realize his diaper has leaked and his jeans are wet. So I hastily get off the phone and go to change him. Oh it had leaked alright. Leaked poo.
E-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e. There was poo mushed onto his undershirt onesie thing. Poo smeared all on the inside of his jeans. There was poo on every square inch of skin that was covered by his diaper...and some square inches the diaper didn't cover. And of course, the second I took his nasty stinky poo-filled diaper off...he grabbed his nasty stinky poo-covered butt. I couldn't figured out what to wipe off first. The flailing poo-hands, the kick-boxing poo-legs, or the barrel rolling poo-body.

And within 17 seconds I no longer felt like a functioning normal human. I had been transformed into a frantic monkey mother trying to stop her hairy little baby from throwing poo on the walls.