We had our first datenite of the semester the other evening. We left Uncle James in charge as usual. Last semester was a little irregular in terms of Mother's Day Out and Datenite. I had a newborn and didn't feel like going "out" whether by day or by night. When I did stray from the nest, the littlest one was in tow. As a result, James grew accustomed to caring for children who were generally self-sufficient in bath'n'body works....if you know what I mean.
So, last Tuesday, we left him with all 5 Johnsons. On the way out the door I mentioned that Mari Alice had not soiled a diaper in a day or so. It was sort of a passing thought that caught my attention as I was rattling off instructions for our time away. James was busily griddling quesadillas. He raised a spatula in our direction, gave a confident smile and instructed us to enjoy ourselves.
We were doing just that as the waiter brought us chips and salsa. We remembered a phone call we needed to make, but didn't have the number with us. We called home and Luke answered. He seemed distracted as he searched for the phonebook. Philip inquired. Luke reported that Mari had "pooped her brains out" and that Uncle James was handling it.
After gathering statements from all verbal parties involved, I am able to piece together the details of calamity and distress.
Mari was in her exer-saucer (Uncle James calls it her "alka-seltzer") when she decided to let loose. A sibling passerby soon realized that she seemed giggly in a relieved way, and yet fidgity and uncomfortable. "I think she pooped" was the verdict. James left his post at the dish sink. As he lifted her out, children gasped. She was carried in the "stiff-arm" formation to the kitchen for further investigation. Yes, people, the stuff had made it into her socks! He quickly barked out warnings to the other kids concerning their proximity to the crisis, followed by a brief supply list for rectifying the situation: "Watch out! Stay back! Get me two old towels, some diapers, some wipes, and ....oh gosh...." He proceeded to lay my darling in the middle of the kitchen floor where she was disrobed, and literally hosed off.
We tried to check back a little later, but James would not take our call....something about needing to get his heart right. The evening continued to take a toll on him as the "wardrobe malfunction" caused Mari to miss her nap. So instead of sleeping peacefully until I came to nurse her, she paced the floor frantically (perched in James' arms) awaiting my return.
When we walked in, James was holding Mari Alice in one hand and with the other he was stabilizing the lid of a bottle in her mouth. That's right: the lid. A nipple in a rim. No bottle. My baby was sucking air out of a lid. First, the unorthodox diaper change, and now, nobody knows that God made pacifiers!
James was swaying slightly, and humming softly. Mari seemed content - in an "I look ridiculous", "Who checked this guy's references?" sort of way. James seemed calm - in an "I resent you for pooping on me, but I'm committed to meet your needs unconditionally" sort of way.
Philip caught one glance of that pair and got so tickled he had to leave the room. He ducked back into the hallway, lowered his head, and did that bobbing shoulder, wheezy laugh. A couple times he tried to interject the words "James" or "Dude" or "What were you..." but ultimately he just kept laughing. James kept humming. Mari kept sucking.
So, last Tuesday, we left him with all 5 Johnsons. On the way out the door I mentioned that Mari Alice had not soiled a diaper in a day or so. It was sort of a passing thought that caught my attention as I was rattling off instructions for our time away. James was busily griddling quesadillas. He raised a spatula in our direction, gave a confident smile and instructed us to enjoy ourselves.
We were doing just that as the waiter brought us chips and salsa. We remembered a phone call we needed to make, but didn't have the number with us. We called home and Luke answered. He seemed distracted as he searched for the phonebook. Philip inquired. Luke reported that Mari had "pooped her brains out" and that Uncle James was handling it.
After gathering statements from all verbal parties involved, I am able to piece together the details of calamity and distress.
Mari was in her exer-saucer (Uncle James calls it her "alka-seltzer") when she decided to let loose. A sibling passerby soon realized that she seemed giggly in a relieved way, and yet fidgity and uncomfortable. "I think she pooped" was the verdict. James left his post at the dish sink. As he lifted her out, children gasped. She was carried in the "stiff-arm" formation to the kitchen for further investigation. Yes, people, the stuff had made it into her socks! He quickly barked out warnings to the other kids concerning their proximity to the crisis, followed by a brief supply list for rectifying the situation: "Watch out! Stay back! Get me two old towels, some diapers, some wipes, and ....oh gosh...." He proceeded to lay my darling in the middle of the kitchen floor where she was disrobed, and literally hosed off.
We tried to check back a little later, but James would not take our call....something about needing to get his heart right. The evening continued to take a toll on him as the "wardrobe malfunction" caused Mari to miss her nap. So instead of sleeping peacefully until I came to nurse her, she paced the floor frantically (perched in James' arms) awaiting my return.
When we walked in, James was holding Mari Alice in one hand and with the other he was stabilizing the lid of a bottle in her mouth. That's right: the lid. A nipple in a rim. No bottle. My baby was sucking air out of a lid. First, the unorthodox diaper change, and now, nobody knows that God made pacifiers!
James was swaying slightly, and humming softly. Mari seemed content - in an "I look ridiculous", "Who checked this guy's references?" sort of way. James seemed calm - in an "I resent you for pooping on me, but I'm committed to meet your needs unconditionally" sort of way.
Philip caught one glance of that pair and got so tickled he had to leave the room. He ducked back into the hallway, lowered his head, and did that bobbing shoulder, wheezy laugh. A couple times he tried to interject the words "James" or "Dude" or "What were you..." but ultimately he just kept laughing. James kept humming. Mari kept sucking.
We all got a good giggle out of the evening. And as for James and Mari....they've since reconciled. He's a little nervous about next week's datenite, and she's a little freaky about the kitchen spray nozzle! Tune in next week...
