Sponge Bath

Quentin got his first sponge bath from mom and dad last night. Overall, we would give ourselves a B+. I witnessed the one he got in the hospital but they were working on Carrie so she got some great direction from dad when we were at home. Quentin screamed through the whole thing, just like the hospital so we must have been doing it right. They emphasized how we need to be fast because unlike the hospital we don't have heat lamps to get his body temp back up. We only have blankets and we don't want to give the poor guy hypothermia. So me, being all empathetic picked him up in my nice new sweater buck naked to warm him up while Carrie was getting his clothes and diaper out. Well, Quentin used that opportunity to whazzer all over the place, but mostly my sweater. Carrie stopped and enjoyed the moment. "He's peeing on you!" Yes, I feel that soaking my shirt. Could you hurry it up a bit with the clothes so I could put him down? Being peed on isn't as bad as I thought it would be. It's a little warm, but after all it is your offspring so you let it slide. I think our dry cleaner is going to be seeing a lot more of us. He also made a sizable puddle on the floor so it's essentially like having a puppy all over again. We get to clean up pee on the floor all over again! Up this point we have done a good job evading the whazzer-machine but in the heat of the moment I forgot about how dangerous that thing is. Another reminder for the annals of parenthood.

When we went to the doctor yesterday one of the things we were worried about was how he hadn't deuced since leaving the hospital so the doc was concerned about him too. If he didn't get one out by today we were going to have to spoon feed him Karol syrup. I didn't think he would enjoy that too much so we were really putting the full court press on trying to get him to eat as much as possible. Well, that worked out - a little too well. Right around midnight the Quinster turned into the poopster. I mean every 30 minutes this kid was dropping another load. By 3am we still hadn't hit the sack because he was pooping, screaming through the diaper change, eating, pooping, screaming, eating, repeat, repeat, repeat. The kid went through 6 diaper changes by 6am. That makes for a rough night. He must have heard the doctor about the Karol syrup and decided he wasn't taking any chances. Overkill buddy. One would've been sufficient. Needless to say it was zombieville over here this morning. I made myself some breakfast and wandered into the bedroom where mom and baby were trying to catch up on some z's and looked over at the clock noticing it was past noon. Noon? Really? How is that even possible? In the real world maybe, but not in this house. Man, a clock has zero meaning with an infant. Zero, nada, zilch. No schedule. Everything is out the window.

I'm attaching a pic of Quentin trying out his new rocker from Grandma S. Check out the length on that leg!