April 22, 2008...11:39 am
maternally challenged.
The Puffin, clearly judging me.
I spent last weekend in Vermont with my family to celebrate my sister’s 26th birthday. Saturday morning my sister and brother-in-law had a fundraiser to participate in, so they decided I could be trusted to watch The Puffin for the morning. I am still wondering which drugs they took that morning when they made such decision.
Around 9:30 a.m. I went to change The Puffin and forgot the cardinal rule of baby changing: do not ever remove the dirty diaper unless you have a clean one to immediately replace it. She peed. All over the changing table. All over her onesie. All over herself.
We had a good morning watching Mickey Mouse Playhouse and playing in the exersaucer - no tantrums or crying. This must have boosted my confidence in my baby-wrangling abilities, because after the peeing incident, I decided I was more than capable of giving my niece a bath. A BATH! It wasn’t until I had her nekkid and in the bathroom that I realized all the variables that come into play with bathing a baby. My biggest problem? Water temperature.
Here’s the thing, I like HOT showers and baths. Like, burn-your-skin-off-and-melt-your-internal-organs hot. Luckily I knew that this is not an appropriate temperature for a baby. HOWEVER…I wasn’t quite sure what is that special temperature. So, I start filling the tub with warm water - not hot, but definitely not cold. I have The Puffin in her meshy bath chair and use a cup in the tub to start rinsing her off. I use the baby bath soap to scrub her little body and then use the baby shampoo and start foaming up her hair. I’m scrubbin’ away, all proud of myself for giving her a bath by myself for the first time when I look down at her feet and see they are blue. Like, DEEP BLUE. Then I notice her hands are the same color. And she is shivering. CHRIST! I froze my niece!
I do a couple more dumps of water to get all the soap off her and scoop her out of the tub. But then, because I didn’t think of this BEFORE the bath, I can’t find her baby bath towels. Or any dry towels for that matter. I am running around the house with a wet, slippery, blue baby. She is not crying at all, but I know she was judging me. Saying in her little British baby voice (because that is the voice I have given her) “Ta-Ta, you are most certainly an idiot. For the love of God, please don’t give me cousins anytime soon.” Yes, I was judged by a five-month-old.
When I finally find her little hoodie baby towel I bundle her up and snuggle her. I have to get her dressed on the floor because, yes, I’m an idiot and I didn’t take care of the pee-pee changing table BEFORE the bath either. I get her all dressed in long jeans and a cute polka-dot onesie, then I comb her hair and put in barrettes. Thankfully, she is no longer blue at this point.
After The Great Baby Bath Debacle of 2008, I give The Puffin a bottle and she conks out for a nap. Obviously the morning’s events were just too much for her. I, however, stand by her crib and make sure she doesn’t run away to call Child Services on me.
Reason #349 why I should not have a child in the foreseeable future.
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