Holy Crap: The Sequel.

Sunday morning coming down, and Boy #2, Wyatt hadn't pooped since Thursday night. The Boy's Mother was quite troubled by this fact - worried enough that I whipped out the User Guide and boned up on constipation. Fast forward an hour and Boy #1 is jonesing for some Micky D - so his Mom loads him up and off the go to McDonalds. I stay home with Quiet Wyatt who is asleep at this point. Boy #2 soon wakes up for some food, so I make a bottle of formula for him, get him on my lap (I put him on my legs so I have his head in my left hand and the bottle in my right -he is looking straight up at me - most of his body resting on my legs in my lap) and start feeding. He's all smiles, eating, cooing, eating, smiling, and then - goes beet red. BAM!!!! Explosive bowel movement. Two days worth of fecal matter come shooting into the diaper...Houston we have a problem! The diaper can't hold it...so up and out the back it goes. Getting all over him (his back) and soaking thru his clothes into my clothes. What am I going to do at this point? Nothing. I've already been shit on...so I try and burp him before I go back and change his diaper. So, up I go to burp him...pat pat pat on the back. A nice burp followed by puke. Yes, now I have crap and puke on me. I wipe his mouth dry with my shirt (hey, its already got crap and puke on it) and off we go to his room to change his diaper and clothes. 100 wet wipes later, I've got him out of this clothes and clean. While putting the new diaper on him, I get a little to forceful and rip the left tab, ruining it. I do this a lot for some reason. So, I go to throw it away and as I turn back - the Boy has turned into a fountain. Pissing straight up - on himself and his changing table thing. I do a quick ninja daddy move and cover up the stream in the ruined diaper. 50 wet wipes later he's in a fresh diaper. Carter is back now, and she dresses him. You think my job is done. Wrong. Now I get to go into the kitchen and wash out the clothes that has all the crap on it. As I'm doing this chore, I'm thinking of Lionel Ritchie's Easy...and how he must of not had young kids when he wrote that song. Because this 'Sunday Morning' ain't particularly easy at Casa Tinsley.