He half-limped into the kitchen, a look of intense discomfort on his face. "Change-a diaper, peese."
Somewhere in the recesses of my mind I knew that a two-year old who's uncomfortable in his own diaper must have a doozy, but I didn't pay attention.
He waited, grabbing at his pajamas, "Change-a diaper Mama! Change-a diaper!!"
Stopping what I was doing, I took full notice of his bowlegged gait as he shuffled into his bedroom. I unzipped the footie pajamas and saw the Horror of Horrors that used to be his diaper. Huggies should mention a load capacity on their packaging. Never mind the weight of the child; what's the maximum capacity of the diaper? This one had gone way over capacity. It had sneaked out of his diaper and was from his hip to his toes. Toes! In footie pajamas! Caiden, never one to be left out of a show, was spectating and running commentary. "Ooooh, Mama! That's a bad one. That's a really bad one. I'll go get the air freshener." He ran to Addie's room, and then, because I had tried to stop breathing and had run out of air, I took a huge gulp of room air.
I dry heaved, loudly. Grayson looked at me and retched. There we were, both of us now covered in the contents of his diaper (What on earth did he eat last night?), retching. I ran from his room, leaving him stranded, half-naked, and smeared with It. There are not enough wipes in this world to fix that situation. I turned on the faucet in the bathtub, tried to get it together, and headed back to the Room of the Stench. Grayson was still lying on his changing table, looking slightly shell-shocked. He reached down, trying to decide exactly what was going on, while Caiden and I shouted in unison, "GRAYSON! DON'T TOUCH YOUR DIAPER!" Too late.
I peeled off his pajamas, heaving and with eyes watering and carried him in the stiff-armed move made famous in "Three Men and a Baby," while It fell off his legs and onto the carpet. Tiptoeing through the
I turned and ran for the sink. Yes, folks, I threw up in my own sink. Over a diaper. And I call myself a veteran. Motherhood is nothing if not glamorous.