Poopy Hand
I woke at 1:30 A.M. (after three hours of much needed sleep) to be a good father and husband by changing Ezra’s poopy diaper. The reason I was awake, in fact, was because I wasn’t sleeping well and the sound of Ezra pooping poop woke me up, so I felt connected to the poop, and I wanted to help.
I got up. My head was still full of sleep. I was thinking it was going to be a quick change: take the diaper off; clean Ezra’s butt; apply the diaper rash cream; put the new diaper on; give Ezra back to mom.
Everything was going good until I was applying the diaper rash cream on Ezra’s butt. Before the cream was applied, my hand was full of poop.
Things fell apart. Ezra woke up and began to cry. I woke up and began to get fussy (saying fuck more than once). I cleaned my hand while Ezra began peeing all over him and his onesie.
Through deep breathing, focus, and the knowledge that soon I’d be able to give Ezra back to mom, I was able to clean up and change Ezra into clean cloths.
Before everything was said and done. We were both fussy, and we were both trying to get back to bed.