to blow out. with pooka, the poop crawled up the front, with bug it crawled up the back. it happened so frequently, kisu and i have earned this merit badge dozens of times over, but i have to say the most inconvenient event i can remember is when we took the girls to my work to show off new baby bug during my maternity leave.
ironically, we were having a conversation with 1 mother and several childless/single women about how once you have a baby, you have to accept that you will be 'in the goo'. from spit up to poop to snot to baby food. it's just a fact of babies. you only have to be exposed for a month or so before you realize: resistance is futile; you will be goo-d.
it was about this time that i realized that part of my shirt--the part i was holding bug against--was starting to feel warm, and a little damp. i lifted her away to reveal a giant pale orange wet spot. she had exploded the diaper. poop. all over me.
of course, i hadn't planned on staying at work this long, so i had left the diaper bag in the truck. 8 floors down.
i handed bug to kisu and flew out the door, impatiently waited for the elevator, and ran out to the truck. when i came back up to our floor, i panted, "this is exactly the kind of goo you have to get used to."
being an experienced mom, i naturally had a clean change of clothes for bug.
uh, being a bit, shall we say rusty, at mothering a child who wears (and blows out) diapers, i neglected to pack a clean shirt for myself.