I remember when I used to come home after a night out at 3 AM.  I can even remember some nights where I was still out at 3 AM going strong with a cocktail in my hand.  Last night at 3 AM was an entirely different story.  Last night I was sound asleep for one of my 3 hour stretches that my darling daughter allows me to have every night (thank God for small miracles, 3 hours is a blessing) when I was awoken by what sounded like a small explosion happening next to my bed.  What could be so loud that it would wake a mother during one of her precious hours of sleep?  If you guessed an explosive shit coming from a 9 pound infant, you guessed correctly.

Yes, my friends, Charlotte Shea was shitting and the sound was loud enough to wake me out of a deep sleep.  I knew when I heard it that it was going to be a bad one.  A complete strip down and redressing.  There is nothing I look forward to less than taking off my daughter’s clothes and putting new ones on at her 3 o’clock in the morning.  I took 10 seconds to mentally prepare myself, threw my hair in a bun (hair falling down in your face while dealing with a diaper explosion is NOT good, I know this from experience as well) and picked up my baby.  I felt the warmth through her clothes and my heart sank.  There would be casualties in this war.  Would the onesie be garbage and the pajamas be saved?  We would soon find out.

I placed Charlie on her changing table, who was now wide-eyed and making gurgling cooing sounds like this was the most fun she’s ever had in her whole damn life, and I began to undress her.  The pajamas would NOT be saved.  I don’t even understand how so much can come out of such a small person.  Somehow the onesie was almost perfectly fine.  I have no idea how this happened or how it was possible, but at least we only have to throw out one article of clothing.  Once I got her naked I took off her diaper, when she promptly decided to kick her feet wildly like she was practicing for swimming at the Olympics.  Her feet, of course, landed in her shit diaper.  I looked at her through exhausted, burning, blood shot eyes and I swore she was going to smile.  And then she threw up.

Nothing good happens at 3 AM.

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