Another One For The Books

Wednesday, 10:08 a.m.

Another diaper blowout. Bring it on.


In case you’re wondering, yes, his shirt is soaked, as are the shorts.

Honestly, it all started as a routine poopy change. No big deal, I have faced this scenario many times over the last 11+ years.

Today, though, I woke up feeling a bit cruddy. While in the shower I did a saline nasal rinse to help clear my sinuses. That was at 6:30 this morning. The morning has been slow going, but all was well. The sun is shining again today, which is a welcome change after the past four days of April showers. Hang on to this, because we will revisit this detail.

So, we begin the routine. Me: “Let’s change.” Him: “shang.” Me: “Change.”

We pull off the offending shirt first, and proceed to unbuckle wet pants. Not as easy as you’d think. And then plop. Contents fall onto floor. At this point, we go with bandaid approach and just yank off the diaper as quickly as possible. Which streaks his legs of course.

The diaper being overflowing flops over onto the back of my hand, smearing my right hand. Left hand must assist, smearing my left hand near useless now. Drop all the goods in the trash, which was also overflowing. Caught falling over trash can with poo-smeared hands.

Remember that saline nasal rinse I told you about, the one from almost 4 hours ago? Yeah, it decides to make an appearance in this exact moment. The nose faucet decides to open up the floodgates. I have no choice but to let it flow.

So, hands covered in poo, watery, salty snot running down my face and flooding the bathroom floor, I find the baby wipes.

Now…clean up hands first. Then floor. Then bottom. Problem. To clean hands I must touch either the sink or the wipes container. Let’s go with wipes. Poo gets into minuscule edging around wipes lid. Wipe up floor so I don’t accidentally step in it or set my knee in it. Don’t ask how I know.

Proceed to white-trash bathe the boy. Twenty wipes later, let’s just take a bath. Forgot to wipe up the snot. I almost slipped to my death. Many household accidents involve slipping in the bathroom. I’ll bet they leave out that detail that they slipped on snot or poo.

Shower the boy, get sleeves and pants soaking wet, because there is no way to shower him without getting sopped, too. After the shower, we fill up the tub to soak the backside in the tub for a few minutes so I can rush up to blog about it change my clothes.

Time to run, I hear wet footsteps. And I’m praying that it’s not brown water.

Too much information??? Just laugh with me. Always, with me, not at me. Humor and sarcasm help me cope. This is the daily life with autism.

2 thoughts on “Another One For The Books

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