3am. 7-month-old Lior wakes up crying. I give a minute or two to see if he'll go back to sleep on his own. He doesn't. I drag myself to his room and give him the pacifier. He calms down for a few seconds, drops the pacifier and starts complaining again. I try that 2 or 3 times, and then I say: I get it I get it, you're hungry. Not to worry, your bottle is on the way.
Knowing that he almost always wakes up hungry in the middle of the night, I leave a bottle with water prepared in his room and a can of formula, so I prepare it very quickly.
But then I remember - he's got a rash, so maybe I should change him before I give him the bottle, this way he'll be dry and clean, he'll eat and fall asleep in a second.
I take him to the changing table. As I open up his diaper, he starts screaming and jumping making it impossible for me to change him. Of course, he's hungry, the poor thing. I make a deal with him: if you can hold your bottle still on your own, you can have it as I change you... - I say to him while I put the bottle on his mouth and his tiny hands to hold it on the sides. He holds it quite well, so I start changing him. Since he only had some pee I just dry him a bit and put on tons of cream for the rash. When I finish, I lift him and put him on my lap so that he can finish the bottle. He starts screaming again.
What now? - I think to myself - Maybe he'd rather lay down?
So I put him back on his crib and he keeps screaming until I put the bottle back on his mouth. He drinks a few sips and starts screaming again. - What's the problem honey? How can mommy help you? - I ask, a bit hopeless.
He looks up at me and goes: prrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrraf pfffff prrrrr.
- Ok, so that's what's been bothering you. Why didn't you tell me so before I changed you?
I take him back to the changing table, with the bottle he didn't finish yet. He keeps drinking from the bottle as I wipe him a bit with his own diaper. Then I remember an
article I read earlier about baby rash saying
"Some parents keep cotton balls and a squirt bottle or an insulated container of warm water at the changing table for easy, gentle cleanups." So I thought, maybe it's better to wipe him with cotton and warm water. Since he finished his bottle already, I put it aside and took him naked and diaperless on my arms to go for some warm water in the kitchen. After a few steps, he goes "blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrgh!" so that me, my hair, my pajamas and the whole corridor were filled with the formula that couldn't possibly stay in his stomach after all the moving from one place to the other while he was eating.
It took me a moment to figure that I should just ignore what just happened and worry about Lior. 6 more steps towards the kettle and I start feeling this warmth in my body. Yes. He peed on what was left of a dry pajama, and the whole kitchen floor.
Long long long story short, I take the damn water, clean him up, get him to sleep, wash the floors with pee and vomit, wash his bottles and put on the sterilizer. When I turn the microwave on and move towards the shower, I look at the time: 4:15. I search desperately for a clean pajamas, enter the shower, wash my hair and clean myself from all those nice fluids. I get to bed at almost 5am. At 5:45am he decided it's time to get up... I turned to my dear husband full of tenderness and threatened his life so that he'd stay up with our beautiful, smiling, good-humored and way too awake baby....
