the anniversary warm-up.

This was the most amazing few days I’ve ever had with my husband. It was glorious. But before I can blog about that, I must share the most embarrassing, disgusting Ames story to date.
As I was reporting off to night shift Monday night, I received a text from Christopher that read, “I’m sorry to do this to you, but we are going to eat sushi tonight.” MMMmmmm, I love that man. What better way to kick off our anniversary celebration?! I jumped in the car and headed home at lightning speed (safely, of course). I was anxious to grab some dinner before Ames hit his “na na na” whiny bedtime hour.
When I arrived home, though, there were a few hitches. Chris had gotten Ames dressed and had him sitting in the highchair, letting him snack to tide him over. I gave that little boy a drive-by kiss as I headed to change out of my scrubs, but I could smell a problem. He’d soiled his diaper just as fast as his papa could slap it on him. I took him upstairs with me while Chris stayed downstairs to handle the other issue… Some people had decided to come and look at the loveseat we were trying to sell. They had called minutes after Chris made our impromptu dinner plans, and we definitely didn’t want to miss out on the sale. As it turns out, they were buying and loading the thing during this entire gruesome episode. I wonder what they thought when they heard me yelling…
I unsnapped the babe’s pants and knew it was gonna be a messy diaper. I decided to try something new, silly, and downright redneck. I started the bathwater and put Ames in it, clothes and all. I kept the drain unplugged and I stripped him down, rinsing the yuckies off as we went. The plan was to rinse off his diaper/cover/clothes, and then fill up the tub once it was clean of poop. Here’s an idea of how easy & fun bathtime usually is… This was taken a few months back.
At one point, I leaned over him to check his backside and make sure nothing was sticking to it. That’s when I saw the tiny hand go towards the mouth. I swatted it away, and said, “No, Ames. Yucky.” But it was too late. Ames looked up with a terrified look on his face – Mama, I’ve already done it. 
He began smacking his lips, as if to try and figure out what it was he was tasting. I screamed, “NO” and performed an emergency-my-baby’s-choking-on-crap finger sweep, pulling a chunk of poop out of the child’s mouth. My shrieking and involuntary scolding caused him to spill some serious crocodile tears. As he wailed, I took the opportunity to lather his mouth out with some Burt’s Bees soap. I couldn’t help it; I was so disgusted. I needed him to be my clean, innocent baby again – a baby who had never tasted poop. I tried to explain, but he wasn’t having it.
He recovered quickly after the rinse. Personally, I took a bit longer to regain compsure. I stared in disbelief and tried to get my mind around what had just happened. I couldn’t even bring myself to put together a cutesie outfit for the kid. He wore his pajamas on our sushi date. MY SON TRIED TO EAT HIS POOP, Y’ALL.
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