Poop Happens Often

I like to believe there are little plaques being engraved in heaven for the thankless tasks we endure in this life. One day I'll get my little awards to hang in my cubicle in paradise. Until then, I'll imagine the inscription, just to keep me going:

This is to certify that Jen, enduring 8 days as a single parent, all of which so far have involved vomit or diarrhea, got up at three am to change a runny diaper with a flashlight, a bucket of warm water and a rag. She sacrificed the bulk of her sleep to diaper rash avoidance and post-traumatic insomnia. WAY TO GO MOM!

I realize this is nothing compared to what so many braver and stronger women endure each day (they get the corner offices in heaven), but let's face it; I am not that brave, nor that strong. And, I am a whiner, in need of constant positive reinforcement. As children, I think we used to congratulate ourselves more often. Perhaps we should work on reinstating this habit.

Today, as I changed another series of diapers, I commented that Elliot's diaper rash was clearing up, thanks to baby wipe avoidance and diligence with aforementioned bucket of warm water. Elliot was clearly happy about this turn of events as well and said:

I'm so proud of my bottom!

So am I.