I've been back to work after maternity leave for seven months, and I recently took my first overnight business trip to Chicago. If anyone tells you work travel when you're a parent is like a vacation, they're on drugs. Seriously they probably took an Ambien. I slept worse on my first night away than I did at home with an infant. After hourly wake-ups in the hotel hearing phantom baby cries, I got a text from #gingerdad:
#Gingerdad woke up to Poopageddon 2015. Alone. Changing a squirmy kid's diaper is hard enough with one person, but cleaning this biohazard scene with one set of hands and a faulty gag reflex deserves a medal.
We're not even sure how this happened. #Gingerbaby had a onesie on and hadn't taken off his diaper, so it was as if he had a stash of poop somewhere in the crib ready to attack when I left.
I suggested just burning his room and rebuilding that side of our home. To be fair, I'd say the same thing if I saw a spider in the house. The kid got a bath and a shower before 7am. #Gingerdad disinfected the house and still got pink eye. I thanked the mama goddesses for my restless sleep away in lieu of a feces facial.