Big daddy

Most of you who have spent any amount of time with myself and Braden know either the term "Buttzooka" or "Buttsplosion" or both. Over the course of our vacation, specifically the last 3 days, I have come to realize that I previously spoke these terms in an amatureish and naive way. My previously limited knowledge of the potent and irreversable destruction that can blast forth from the hindquarters of an infant was like a Jr. high art student commenting on the wonder that is Michaelangelo. However, my horizons have been expanded, my experiences broadened, my wisdom in the ways of poo have been tested and forged like a fine steel rapier (that's a sword for those ignorant in the vernacular of s words). Those of you who have children should by now have a slight knowing grin on your face, those without children will be laughing, not truly knowing the atomic power of which I speak. Many of you want to know how our vacation went, what we did, where we went, but instead I'm going to talk about baby poop. The rest can wait until later.

The incident... Braden had been a little under the weather a few days prior to the return from South Dakota. It seemed that he had become a little dehydrated and he wasn't all to pleased about it. We pumped him full of electrolytes, formula, and food as we were trying to keep him as healthy as possible during his recovery. Anyways, we were driving back through Nebraska late into the evening. We attempted to stop at a KOA Kampground (yeah, they spell it with a K...quaint) however, it was full and we decided to continue on down the road and find a hotel for the evening (this turned out to be the best decision I've ever made in my life). We made it to a town called York and found a Days Inn after checking the rates at the other available hotel chains. Angela and her sister Arica stayed in the SUV while I was booking the king room, I returned and Angela informed me that she had spent her time laughing hysterically at the massive and continuous defecation sounds being emitted from the back seat... the laughing would soon subside.

I could smell the "incident" as soon as I opened my car door. It nearly brought tears to my eyes with its toxic stench. The distinct 34 day old cottage cheese smell combined with an acidity comparable only to battery ooze filled the enclosure. Quickly I parked accross the street as designated by the hotel manager that had checked me in. We began to unload. I was in charge of getting Braden removed from his carseat and taken inside. I began to remove him from his seat {sidenote on carseat anatomy. There is a small button one can push to loosen the shoulder straps, this button is located between the legs of the passenger.} pushing on the release button. I immedieately reallized that I had put my hand in some of the poo. This was easy to detect because my brain just realized that my eyes had registered a large yellow liquidy mass just where my hand was headed. Just to give you a visual, this mass looked like a pool of oatmeal mixed with that neon yellow French's mustard. I allerted Angela of this "incident" and decided not to remove Braden from the carseat, but to remove the carseat itself. We gathered our overnight material as Braden waited patiently for us in the breeze blowing over his fuming stool. We took him inside and formulated a plan of attack. I was in charge of decontaminating the child and his currently saturated clothing items. I removed him from the carseat delicately and took him directly to the bathtub, forgoing the issue of removing his clothes. I began running water, as as I waited for appropriately temperatured water to come, I began to remove Braden's clothing and diaper. I hollered back and forth to Angela as we continued cooridinating our attack. I hit the stopper and the warm water began to fill the tub and I began to wipe Braden down. I began to realize that when you have a layer of poo in the tub prior to the water entering and additionaly you have the stopper in, the result is poo stew. Realizing this, I unstopped the bathtub and tried to get the stew to evacuate the premesis. After completing this I cleaned Braden off and called for Angela to come with a towel to dry him off.

I should add the experience Angela was having in the other room as I was dealing with zookie. She got the pleasant job of cleaning the carseat. In her own recollection of this "incident" to me later she described, not the process of wiping down the carseat, but scooping out the fecal matter as you would ladle out punch at a reception. She got out some dish soap, previously designated for cleaning bottles and further cleaned the fabric. For further detail on her experience...ask her.

We finally brought this "incident" to a close and put Braden to sleep for the night. He laid silently for a while as we got ready for bed and chatted in disbelief at what we had just experienced and saying little prayers of thanks for a full RV site 31 miles away. Angela went to check on Braden before we were to get in bed and noticed a small spot next to the little man. Checking again, she realized that he had again blown out his diaper and soiled his clothing. With a little shock we again took up battle positions and retaliated against this second wave of putrid chem warfare being waged by our small son. Sparing the gruesome details (that are remarkably similar to the previous gruesome details) we conquered yet again ending this "incident" at about 1:20 am. We fell into bed laughing at ourselves and agian thanking God for unplanned accomodations.

Further details of our trip to the Black Hills will come. Nothing as exhilerating as this story I'm sure.

Praise God.