*I have no shame. I all but promised Whit my first born child and/or provocative pictures of myself if he would agree to guest post for me. Turns out, he doesn’t want my children nor does he want to be scarred by my nudity. However, he did request I quit pressing my nose up against his living room window and drooling. Apparently, it freaks his wife out. Damn. Anyways, thanks Whit. You’re a doll.*
My wife was in bed. I was on the computer. It was late. There was bourbon involved.
In the distance a baby cried. I turned up whatever I was listening to. It may have been Wilco. It may have been jazz. It was something that played well behind an unfocused mind and a bottle of whisky.
I turned up the music and hoped that the baby would solve whatever problem he was facing, or at the very least that my wife would solve it for him. She didn’t. She stayed in bed and she yelled my name into the night. It wasn’t in a good way.
I walked through the dark and took my son from the bassinet. He was only a few weeks old and the fact that I had tried to pawn him off on my wife filled me with regret despite her sleeping not a foot from him.
He stunk, but the smell alone wasn’t enough to warrant my committing the moment to memory. Truth be told, I couldn’t pick that smell out of a line-up. Everything was normal and nothing stood out. I know there was music. Maybe it was Van Morrison. I know there was a drink, was it Maker’s or Knob Creek? I remember that it stunk, but then it always did and I’m pretty sure it always will. Shit stinks and we deal with it.
I took the baby into the the nursery, which was also my office, which was also the extra bedroom. The room was not nearly as glamorous as it sounds.
As I placed him on the changing table I realized that I still had a tissue stuffed inside one of my nostrils. I don’t recall which one, but I remember it had been bleeding. I removed it and within seconds I proceeded to drip blood across my face and onto the smooth, soft skin of my son.
He fired back and suddenly the Pollockesque marks I had drizzled upon us didn’t seem so bad. It’s funny how a rush of piss to the face can put things in perspective.
I did my best Barry Sanders and side-stepped the stream while blocking it with the only item within reach- the bottom of my whisky glass, which of course turned the single stream into a fan of spray that would make the Bellagio blush. It was spectacular.
Everything was fluid, a blur of blood, piss and whisky, and I realized I needed help. I yelled for my wife. She refused to come to my aid, but decided instead to laugh uncontrollably.
Suddenly there was a new noise in the mix. It wasn’t the overly-dramatic cackling of my wife or a boob’s worth of urine ruining an expensive glass of bourbon, it was much more primal. I looked down at the cat meowing beneath me, and I didn’t even flinch as it puked across my bare foot. The right one.
I was a money shot away from hitting for the cycle.
I cleaned up my son, put a new diaper on him and carried him back to the bassinet. My wife tried to curb her enthusiasm. She was not successful.
I wiped the walls and furniture of blood and baby pee. The room was a crime-scene. I wadded a baby wipe into my nose and used the rest to clean up the vomit. The cat watched me, refreshingly unamused.
I poured a fresh glass of fresh whisky and I sat back down at the computer. The room stunk around me, and I listened to Ben Folds.
35 Comments
OUTSTANDING.
Bravo! You have simultaneously ensured that I will stick to my diet tonight AND curbed any baby wanting desires.
You need to bottle that shit. Organic birth control.
ahhhh, now I understand why there is submersion involved in baptizing!
Awesome.
excellent storytelling… if only it were fiction, right?
Wow. WOW.
And, who among us can honestly say this never happened to them???
Okay, the cat has never puked RIGHT on my foot, but has left some “interesting” booby traps.
I’ll bet you’re never change your son again without another diaper at the ready, huh? heh
Girls. This is another reason why I’m only going to have girls.
Awesomely awesome.
We have three girls and one boy and it dosen’t matter. My husband has been hit by every fluid imaginable. Some more than once. And our cat…I mean our former cat…..would only crap in his shoes. Thanks for sharing. It brought back memories of a few nights of uncontrolable laughter.
A hard lesson, quickly learned and never forgotten. It’s never happened to me, but I had Mac first and then Butters. Girls are more forgiving that way. By the time Butters rolled around, I already knew to always cover the willy and never remove the diaper without one underneath it. That and always kick the cat across the room a few times so they learn what room not to be in.
I have a girl and have been peed on. She has yet to me in the face though. I have also been sharted on.
I was once tossing my son up in the air and giving him an air plane ride over my head. I looked up and started cooing at him, and he barfed straight into my open mouth.
I just about dropped him. But Boo was sitting next to me, pissing himself laughing and quickly grabbed the baby so I could go yak out the vomit in my mouth.
Later that night, the boy defiled his father by aiming straight for his eye during a diaper change.
We briefly considered trading him in for a kid with less accurate aiming skills.
But we decided against it, hoping that one day the boy could use his superiour body fluid aiming talents to bring us fortune and fame.
Hasn’t happened yet. Now the damn kid just pees on the golf greens while the greenskeeper threatens to beat my sorry ass. Damn.
I feel like I have a hangover now.
Hey, wait a second, are you my husband? Because that sounds very, very familiar . . . about 15 months ago? No?
Awesome!! Now I won’t have to watch any A&E this afternoon to feel like there’s some texture to this day.
Sounds about right!
OMG! The number of times I’ve been peed on by my twin boys, I couldn’t count. And luckily my hubby is the only one to catch the so-much-shit-it-comes-out-the-top-and-both-legs crap. LMAO! I feel your pain. Even if I laughed at it.
Awesome. That was great. That so could have happened in my house, and did in various incarnations, minus the cat but plus a dog with kidney disease. The best was when my older son was in the NICU and had projectile crap shoot out three feet from his ass, all over 2 incubators housing a set of teeny twins. Thank God for the incubators, though. All it took was wipes and some bleach to clean up, instead of full decontamination baths.
That was hilarious.
If you wrote this well on your own blog, I’d start reading you again.
Another Whit masterpiece.
That was such a good story I felt like I was watching it happen.Great writing!
At least you blocked the Stream with the Bottom of the glass. Neither of my spawn have a penis so I’ve never been peed on in full “turn the pumps on full” fashion. But then, I’m looking down the barrel of teenage girls. Oi.
As ans aside, get you hands on a bottle of Rowan’s Creek. And if you can’t find it in your neck of the woods, give me a shout. I’ll see that you have some.
What great writing! I so would NOT have blocked the stream with my drink…lean back, let it shoot for the floor. Cat puked there anyway!
Oh the joys of parenting at it’s finest.
I feel really dirty right now, like I need to take a shower - not the good kinda dirty. That means supremely told sir, supremely well told.
Ah man….
Felt like I was right there with you. I’m about to go clean my foot off as we speak.
Thankfully, I’m out of the diaper stages with my children, next stage will be my own?
Hysterical. Thanks for the image.
Bet it was The Luckiest.
I think I need a drink now.
A money shot from hitting the cycle. Awesome.
Hey, were you just at my house? This all sounds hauntingly familiar…except my son also threw up all over me and the dog. I think I need a glass of Pino Noir.
THAT?? Was classic Dad. Loved it.
Everything is better with bourbon.
i am single, no kids… and i’d like to thank all my former girlfriends for their cooporation with contraception…alacohol always tastes better with out sxchitt…