Woven and Spun

Pre-baby, Tim and I were quite active as leaders in our youth group, and , at the risk of sounding arrogant, we considered ourselves to be in the ‘cool’ leader category. We both had fairly large small group Bible studies that met weekly, and we enjoyed the ministry and camaraderie of chaperoning youth group trips. Kids would regularly show up at our house to hang out and talk. Right before Drew’s arrival, however, we began scaling back in this ministry, and we prayed and discussed what our future involvement might be. After consulting with the church, we finally decided that Tim would continue leading a guys Bible study once a week in our home, and I would play Martha Stewart, preparing chocolate mint brownies for the group on the weeks when Drew was being angelic and microwaved popcorn on the days when he was ummm, not. (Those poor boys have only gotten brownies twice )

A few weeks ago, the guys were here for Bible study, and I was sitting in the living room chatting with them before it began. Drew was sitting on my lap smiling and enjoying the thought that he was apart of the ‘big boy’ conversation. Suddenly, I felt something warm and oozy running down my leg. I look down and to my horror, Drew had soiled his diaper, and it had come out the side and onto my lap. I frantically screamed to Tim, “I need your help, take the baby, take the baby…he just pooped all over me and the chair.” Tim grabbed Drew, holding him out at arms length, and deposited him on the changing table on the other side of the room. I began contorting myself trying to get out of the chair without making more of a mess. Not wanting to get himself involved in a mess at the untimely moment, Tim inspected Drew’s seemingly secure diaper from a safe distance while yelling, “Where did it come out?! Where did it come out?!”

Immediately, we heard an explosion of laughter coming from the kitchen where the poor youth group guys had fled the instant they heard the word “poop”. We had gotten so caught up in our little diaper drama that we had almost forgotten their presence. All Tim and I could do was laugh along with them at our awkward parental moment. I quickly tried to sanitize and deodorize the situation as best as I could, and hoisting my stinky little son up to his bath, left the boys alone to argue over who was going to have to sit in the ‘poop chair’. Although, it provided an opportunity for the guys to learn about the reality of crises they have yet to encounter, I pretty sure Tim and I lost most of our ‘cool’ factor that night. But alas, what can I say, poop happens…