30 days of misery, day 4.
12:30am - Woke up on the floor of my daughter's room. Not sure how I got there. She keeps trying to climb on me. She's too tired to hold her own weight up, but refuses to sleep. I let her climb on my belly hoping she'll sleep, but then she starts playing with my face and giggling. I'm confused and half in a dream, but realize after a few minutes of this I have to leave or I'll go nuts. I feel dizzy and nauseated when I stand. I worry that I may have undercooked some pork that afternoon. I wake the wife and make her take over with the baby.
1:30am - Wife wakes me up, tells me to take over with the baby. Baby is wide awake and ready to party. I take the baby downstairs, try to give her a bottle to make her sleep. She starts to doze, wakes with a start, and crawls onto the floor. I move to the couch and try to sleep.
2:30am - No recollection of sleeping or waking, I'm mixing a bottle for the baby. My intention is to change her diaper and try sitting with her in the chair again, see if she'll finally go to sleep. I get the stuff together to change her on the couch. I noticed she's pooped two little firm light brown turds. I'm vastly relieved, because the past few days she has mostly pooped jet black fiery diarrhea that burns like a branding iron, leaving her shrieking in torturous agony and with open wounds wherever it touches. Cleaning that hurts her again, but leaving it on is worse.
Anyway, that's not what we have here. So I wipe her and boom, she starts pooping again right there on the pad I layed down. Same light color, but a bit runnier. Surprised by this, she arches her back sharply, pushes her legs in the air, and starts trying to roll off the pad onto the rest of the couch. As she does this, it takes both my hands to keep her from rubbing poop everywhere, meanwhile poop is running down - or rather, up - her back. Somehow, I manage to lift her off that. There's large piles of poop on the changing pad, small blots of it on her pajamas, small patches up and down her back and legs, and my left forearm.
I can tell she's ready for more. I find her little potty seat in the kitchen. Jago keeps moving that out of the living room despite my frequent requests not to. Drives me nuts. Thank goodness it's right next to the door. I sit Miela down, and she pees and giggles and poops a little. Now I have a little potty seat with poop and pee, and the pad covered in poop, and a poopy baby. I have two hands. I need six or eight. I wipe her butt as much as I can in this position, pick her up, and carry her upstairs.
I wake the wife.
"You need to get up and help me."
"Huh? Mgghuff? What's going on?"
"You need to change her and get clean pajamas on her, while I go downstairs and clean up the poop."
"What poop?"
"The poop. The poop all over downstairs. I don't know how else to answer that. She's ... OH GOD. She's pooping right now."
Yes, she starts pooping on my arm. She's semi-seated on my left forearm, leaning on my shoulder. I take my right hand and cup it under her to keep the poop from falling all over the floor. Wife gets up, we go into baby's room, wife starts trying to wipe my arm and hand. I'm like, NO, let's set her down. Normally, from this posture, I put my right hand under her neck to lower her onto the changing table. My right hand is full of shit. So I have my wife lower her neck and shoulders while I lower her bottom. Then I go wash up. And up and up.
Finally get all that cleaned up, new PJs, sat in the chair with the bottle in the baby's mouth. I remember something else happening at 4:30, but what it was escapes me. Maybe she went and played on the floor more until then. Wife woke me around 7:30 to tell me my alarm clock was going off. Told her to ignore it. Woke up around 8:30, late for work again.
Most clocks in the house are off by one hour and 50 minutes, despite me having reset them all twice over the weekend. And now I need to go to Fry's for the third day in a row to try to get a replacement for the bad memory chips they sold me. Pretty sure that #2 was actually #3 that they had managed to get back on the shelf while I was shopping.
1:30am - Wife wakes me up, tells me to take over with the baby. Baby is wide awake and ready to party. I take the baby downstairs, try to give her a bottle to make her sleep. She starts to doze, wakes with a start, and crawls onto the floor. I move to the couch and try to sleep.
2:30am - No recollection of sleeping or waking, I'm mixing a bottle for the baby. My intention is to change her diaper and try sitting with her in the chair again, see if she'll finally go to sleep. I get the stuff together to change her on the couch. I noticed she's pooped two little firm light brown turds. I'm vastly relieved, because the past few days she has mostly pooped jet black fiery diarrhea that burns like a branding iron, leaving her shrieking in torturous agony and with open wounds wherever it touches. Cleaning that hurts her again, but leaving it on is worse.
Anyway, that's not what we have here. So I wipe her and boom, she starts pooping again right there on the pad I layed down. Same light color, but a bit runnier. Surprised by this, she arches her back sharply, pushes her legs in the air, and starts trying to roll off the pad onto the rest of the couch. As she does this, it takes both my hands to keep her from rubbing poop everywhere, meanwhile poop is running down - or rather, up - her back. Somehow, I manage to lift her off that. There's large piles of poop on the changing pad, small blots of it on her pajamas, small patches up and down her back and legs, and my left forearm.
I can tell she's ready for more. I find her little potty seat in the kitchen. Jago keeps moving that out of the living room despite my frequent requests not to. Drives me nuts. Thank goodness it's right next to the door. I sit Miela down, and she pees and giggles and poops a little. Now I have a little potty seat with poop and pee, and the pad covered in poop, and a poopy baby. I have two hands. I need six or eight. I wipe her butt as much as I can in this position, pick her up, and carry her upstairs.
I wake the wife.
"You need to get up and help me."
"Huh? Mgghuff? What's going on?"
"You need to change her and get clean pajamas on her, while I go downstairs and clean up the poop."
"What poop?"
"The poop. The poop all over downstairs. I don't know how else to answer that. She's ... OH GOD. She's pooping right now."
Yes, she starts pooping on my arm. She's semi-seated on my left forearm, leaning on my shoulder. I take my right hand and cup it under her to keep the poop from falling all over the floor. Wife gets up, we go into baby's room, wife starts trying to wipe my arm and hand. I'm like, NO, let's set her down. Normally, from this posture, I put my right hand under her neck to lower her onto the changing table. My right hand is full of shit. So I have my wife lower her neck and shoulders while I lower her bottom. Then I go wash up. And up and up.
Finally get all that cleaned up, new PJs, sat in the chair with the bottle in the baby's mouth. I remember something else happening at 4:30, but what it was escapes me. Maybe she went and played on the floor more until then. Wife woke me around 7:30 to tell me my alarm clock was going off. Told her to ignore it. Woke up around 8:30, late for work again.
Most clocks in the house are off by one hour and 50 minutes, despite me having reset them all twice over the weekend. And now I need to go to Fry's for the third day in a row to try to get a replacement for the bad memory chips they sold me. Pretty sure that #2 was actually #3 that they had managed to get back on the shelf while I was shopping.