Thursday, November 15, 2012

The one with the ick factor

Since I've started working at the daycare, I've gotten better at changing diapers. I've learned that it IS, in fact, necessary to burp infants after feeding them. I've learned that often, babies won't drink their bottles if theyre poopy. I've learned that you should always close the door to the bathroom (but make sure there aren't any toddlers in there first...that ends up badly). I've also learned that giving a two-year-old pudding, while entertaining, is not the smartest thing to do when trying to maintain a semi-clean table/kitchen.

But today, I learned something entirely new.

A child that's roughly the size of a basketball can projectile vomit three to four feet if the fancy strikes them. And generally, they don't care whose lap they're sitting on.

Wanna know how I know this? You've probably already guessed, but I'll enlighten you anyway. Poor L (my favorite, in case I haven't mentioned that before) hasn't been feeling good all week. In a couple different instances, we left him in his little vibratey chair thing for five minutes, only to come back to find that he had effectively covered himself in the formula that took about twenty minutes to feed him. The last couple of days, after feeding him much diluted formula, he seemed to be getting a little better, but today, he proved that theory wrong. While I was trying to get some food into him, this itty bitty little boy shot off like a geyser and spewed everything he had eaten since ten o'clock this morning all over my arm, my jeans, and the chair (that thankfully had a removable cover) that we were sitting in.

I don't think I had been warned before I started the job that this would eventually become part of my job description, but whatcha gonna do?

So, I dutifully grabbed a rag and started to mop up his face and hands with it, but right as I wiped the remains off his mouth, round two began. Only this time, the...uh, substance...had no place to go but back in his face or off to the side, as I was still holding the burp cloth right there. So it chose both paths. He ended up with formula in his eyelashes and ears, and I had a nice line of it all down my shirt.

I could do nothing but laugh. The only other option would have been to break down and sob while staring at the state of my clothes and realizing that I was going to smell like sour milk for the next week. I think laughing was the better option. At least there wasn't poop involved (this time).

Cool story, was the one day I actually brought an extra shirt from home! I've wished I had had one before, like the time I picked up R from her crib and my arm suddenly became uncomfortably warm and moist.

After we had gotten him all cleaned up, the girls started waking up, one at a time (we had six out of seven asleep at once! Award, please?), so I got them going on a "science" project that involved balloons, straws, Lincoln Logs, and a bunch of other doodads. R was free to walk between the big kids room and the babies, as she's that age where she's interested in the goings on, but can't really participate. Lichen was keeping the babies happy, so R was pretty content to wander. After our project was done, Lichen came in and asked where R was.

I dunno, she hasn't been in here in twenty minutes!

Shoot. She's been quiet for a really long time...

Come to find out, she'd made her way to the bathroom and was playing in the toilet. And we'll just say that the water wasn't clean. So her bath time got moved from later this evening to right then, and her clothes got added to the wad that L had soundly soiled.

Might as well get it all done in one day! I think we deserve an ick free week, now.


  1. First thought: Has this baby's pyloric sphincter been checked? Sounds classically like one that needs opened up.

  2. Haha no idea! I should ask his mama. I think he's going to the doctor tomorrow.