Bedwarmers

Back in the day, you set hot potatoes or a pan full of hot coals in your bed to keep warm. These days, electric blankets or just flat-out turning up the heater are great options. I personally prefer a third choice, the nudge-your-spouse-till-they-roll-over-and-you-steal-their-warm-spot bedwarmer.

Last night, I had a run-in with the fourth bedwarmer. The damp kind.

StrawBee and I had had a normal 3 a.m. feeding. I read MLIA, she ate, she blew some raspberries at her food source, I decided she was done if she was making fun of mommy’s milk bottles, then I put her back in her bed. As per my usual paranoid routine, I decided to take a quick peek at Ladybug to make sure she was still breathing. I carefully opened her door, sneaked across the bedroom (a feat in itself, considering she considers her floor synonymous with her toy chest), and assured myself that all was well.

As I walked back out the door and started to close it, however, I noticed something a little out of the ordinary. A lone diaper, lying just inside the door frame. This wasn’t too out of the ordinary because, let’s face it, Dear Boy was kind enough to put the kids to bed and he’s notorious for leaving diapers in the most awkward places (bathroom floor, book shelf, dinner table, etc). However, Ladybug has long since mastered the art of diaper removal, so I thought I’d better check to make sure she wasn’t missing this vital piece of her ensemble.

She was.

Now, this has happened on several occasions. Each time I’ve stuck my hand in those blankets to put a clean diaper on her bum, I’ve prayed the blankets would still be dry. Each time, they have been. Until last night.

Ladybug was plenty warm while the storm howled outside, but damp bedwarmers really just aren’t the thing.

What ensued was five silently frantic minutes of finding a clean diaper (check), making sure the pillow wasn’t wet (check), moving Ladybug so I could check the bed (check), and putting my hand in every single warm, damp spot that my dear child had made (check, check, check, and check!). Soon, and without waking up a soul in the house, I had Ladybug wrapped in a warm, dry blanket (warm because I had been using it, I might add), lying on a dry bed, and all the warm, damp blankets, sheets, and pajamas bundled up for later washing.

Go me.

This morning, when it was time to get up with the kids, Dear Boy and I both pretended not to hear the baby stirring. When her cries reached a level at which we were either deaf or dead not to hear, I rolled over and said, “Ladybug wet the bed last night. I cleaned it up.”

Dear Boy thought for a moment, replied “I’m sorry,” then got up to get the baby. I promptly rolled over in bedwarmer #3 fashion, and was soon snuggly (smugly?) asleep.

So, bedwarmer #4, damp and disgusting you may be, but thanks for the extra sleep. See you in the wee hours sometime. ~~Carolynn

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About Carolynn the Dyer

If I've learned one thing by having three children in four years, it's that babies are not, in fact, the best birth control. ... Okay, just kidding. I've really learned that laughter is the only way to survive the wilds of parenthood, and life in general. Also, that it is indeed possible to do dishes, parent, and carry on a conversation at the same time. If that sounds like fun, or just impossible, then come join me on my blog--and join me in the jungle.
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