Last night our sweet, cuddly co-sleeping arrangement suffered a severe setback when I reached down to pat the baby and came back with a hand covered in poop. Liquid, yellow poop. Are you enjoying your breakfast? Hopefully it’s not applesauce. Or pureed squash.

I suspect the poopsplosion had something to do with the FOUR times Baby Evan nursed last night, since he also peed so much his diaper stopped absorbing and it soaked into his swaddle. I think my nipple has officially become his nighttime security blanket more than as actual source of nourishment. He doesn’t nurse to sleep at bedtime but when he wakes up at night it’s so much easier to just feed him than to get up and rock and pace and shush and listen to him fuss and for the love of God just take the nipple already!  But when he’s latched on – even when he’s not hungry – he’s getting milk and all that food has to go somewhere. I would prefer if that somewhere didn’t include ON ME. And the sheets. And the mattress. AND ON ME. But whatevs. I doubt that’s the last nighttime poop incident we have in his life. Might as well get used to it.

The sad part of the story is all that pooping didn’t faze Baby Evan at all – he just rolled over onto his stomach so he didn’t have to lie in crap and kept on snoozing. So I had to wake up my peacefully sleeping baby at 6 am to get the poop cleaned off him. And the sheets. And the towel I keep by the bed for emergencies. AND ME. When, really, I could have just let him keep sleeping and dealt with the poopsplosion after the sun came up. I think that’s when you know you’re officially a parent – you actually consider the “lie in poop but get more sleep” option. Yes, dear pregnant readers, this IS what having a baby is really like.