I know I'm not the best dresser. My family hated my old "camp pants" (which were really just a huge pair of camo shorts that I wore, like, all the time). I have other fashion-crime clothes, such as my "traveling shirt" and my "Nikki jacket." My family has been frowning down on some of my fashion decisions for years, but none have acted out as harshly as my cousins. One day Edyn was in my closet with me as I was putting away my laundry. I pulled out a button-up church shirt and started to hang it up. "Mama" she said as she pointed. ("Mama" basically covers anything having to do with "female" and "Daddy" the same for male.) I then pulled out a pair of cargo shorts an began folding them. "Daddy" she said as she pointed. Even a two-year-old knows which of my clothes are man clothes that I shouldn't be wearing. I was ashamed. Edyn's disapproval was nowhere near as brutal as that of her little sister's, though.
Earlier this week I was sitting in an arm chair, and had just finished feeding Coda. She was sitting with her bum on my belly and her back resting against my inclined leg. She started smiling all big and cute and I was distracted making happy faces back at her. Suddenly, pee and poop started leaking from between her diaper and leg straight onto me. Not a drop of it even grazed her onesie. Clearly she did not approve of my clothes for the day. I changed her diaper then left her with Camille and went to change.
A few hours later it was time to feed Coda again, and we snuggled down into the same armchair. She finished eating and started smiling and cooing. I was talking back to her and smiling and we were having a good ol' time. She was just so smiley! Then I had a thought when she started grunting a little. I pulled her in close and whispered in her ear "Coda, so help me, if you soil these shorts I will [pause as I think of a threat befitting a 2-month-old] be mad at you!" I pulled her up not three seconds later to find a huge poop pile on my lap. She hated my camo shorts as much as the rest of my family, if not more!
I decided then to keep, from that moment on, an extra layer between us. I refused to hold the little pooper unless she had a blanket under her. I think it was the next day (although it might have been the same day) that I had her lying on my bed, playing for a while before she was supposed to go to sleep. Fifteen minutes later I scooped her up to get her ready to sleep and felt wetness between her blanket and the one on my bed. "Oh well" I thought. It's just pee. It'll dry. Hard to keep my hygiene up when I've been getting pooped on as often as I have. No wonder Edyn calls me "Geeky" and "Icky".