Sunday, February 3, 2013

The Four-Minute Shirt

This probably will be a four-minute entry about the four-minute shirt. You know those speed writing exercises they give you in college? Yeah, come to my house for the "two kids under five" exercise. As my NANO-winning sister will attest --  for three years running, people! -- this place ups our game by factors of magnitude.

Anyway, the four-minute shirt. When your little bundle of joy arrives, you cannot conceive of the laundry it will generate. Pound-for-pound, they generate laundry at a minimum 3:1 ratio. For example: baby pees through a onesie, which soaks the bedding and later the changing pad. Here's what you have to swap:

1. The onesie, duh.
1.a. Any pants that accompanied the onesie.
2. Crib pad.
3. Crib sheet.
4. Changing pad.
5. Blanket on top of changing pad,

and, if you are like me and cannot securely hold a baby without getting all scrunged up yourself,

6. Your own shirt.

This last necessitates putting down the baby so you can change with two hands, and there is a risk of starting the whole thing over again.

The four-minute shirt happened thusly: I was going about my day wearing a nice comfy black sweater that puddled nicely over my Mama-belly. I bathed Dragon Girl and the sleeves got sopping. It was too wet to wear, so I changed it out for a black T-shirt.

I didn't like the black T-shirt because it was tight, but I figured I would not wear it long. I was right. As soon as I went down to the kitchen, I moved a dish in the sink and splashed half a baking bowl full of chocolatey water onto my Mama-belly. Then I shook up a warm bottle for Dragon Girl and sprinkled formula all over my sleeve. While still sighing over that, I picked up a hollering Dragon Girl and fed her. Seconds thereafter, I hoisted her onto my shoulder where I heard a liquidy little "glurp" followed by a cascade of the same formula, now at baby-belly-temperature, onto my left shoulder.

Four minutes. Seriously. And people wonder what a Mama does all day.

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