What's on my shoe?

I've lost track of the number of lessons I've learned so far from the Tiny Mighty Boys. They continually amaze me with their strength and courage. And they possess certain skills that I really never considered of a baby.

Let me start by saying that while I lived in Texas, I had a flock of chickens. I know the change in subject probably gave you a case of whiplash, but let me explain why I bring up my chickens.

Since I have owned chickens, I am very familiar with a living, breathing, being's capacity for producing a seemingly disproportional amount of poo to their size. Every day I'd let them out of their pen to roam the yard and every day I'd be amazed by the amount of droppings they'd leave. It'd be in piles underneath where they slept. In 8 hours, 4 little birds produced shovel-fulls of feces. I didn't mind because it was great fertilizer for the yard and for my garden.

Now I have two little boys who each weigh less than what my smallest chicken weighed. You know where I'm going with this, don't you... You experienced parents are already nodding your heads and muttering, "Oh you don't know the half of it".
Let me just say that these boys are on fortified breast milk.

The horrors seen by both me and my husband not always contained by a diaper. How can such a little person produce so much?

Both boys are very fussy about their diapers. Once it's dirty, they kindly alert us with a wail. Once it's clean, they're back to being happy boys. My normally very patient little guys will go from happy to my-world-is-not-okay-so-I'm-screaming in no time flat over a dirty diaper. I hope this will make it easier to potty train them.
They let us know about their dirty diapers before they're even done using them. And lifting their legs to slip a diaper underneath them seems to "get things moving" again.

The process goes like this:

They wake from slumber with a scream. So we get all dressed up due to their isolation precautions, but we're seriously considering some plastic gowns for home after what we've seen.
We unswaddle them while talking to them and offer a binkie which may or may not be an acceptable bribe for peace and quiet. We unfasten their cute little preemie outfit, slip a new diaper under them and unfasten one side of the diaper they're currently fussing about. Here's what you do.

You wait.

Because the sound of velcro seems to induce a bowel movement.

You watch and listen for signs of an impending explosion. Perhaps their face is red, eyes going watery as they make their attempt. Or they simply suck on their binkie and stare at you with sweet little eyes. But you wait because experience has taught you that...

Pheerrrrrbt.

Sitting across the room, the nurse raises an eyebrow. You point to the kid. "Seriously, it was him." She smiles. Your spouse looks suspicious.

Pherbt.

Something wet and gooey just hit the diaper.

Oh good. He isn't waiting until you've unfastened the diaper to show you the end result of his fortified milk. The danger is over. It's safe to remove barriers and replace diapers.

You unfasten the other velcro, lift his legs and look inside. Wow that's gross. You inspect the contents and judge the consistency. It's more runny than you'd like to see, but it's the fortification of the milk to get them to grow like weeds. You show the nurse who documents the contents of the diaper. Showing someone dirty diapers instead of quickly disposing of them has become normal to you.

Since their skin is so sensitive, you grab the "bum water", a sterilized bottle of water to sprinkle onto some napkins because baby wipes have been too harsh lately.

The Tiny Mighty you're changing lets out a whimper, makes a sad face and starts to cry. "Oh, it's okay sweet boy. I know the water is chilly," you say to him. You clean his bum. He continues to cry.

Pheerrrbt.

Oh no, he wasn't through! Goo dribbles from his little bum and onto the clean diaper. How did it get so far up his back, you wonder?

No big deal. You get a new diaper and slip it under him. You read his face. He's happy. You feel safe knowing that having two bowel movements within a few minutes means he's done.

Yeah, you experienced parents are shaking your heads and laughing at my naivety. You know.

He kicks his feet while sucking on his binkie. While you are enamored by his sweet face, you don't realize he has kicked the diaper open. You hear a stream of liquid hit the wall beside you. You watch it splatter medical equipment, plastic packages of important looking items a good 18 inches away from him.
The Tiny Mighties have some tiny but mighty bladder muscles!

You quickly fold the diaper back over him while making a noise of surprise and shoot the nurse an apologetic look. She offers to help you clean the wall and everything he's peed on, explains that this isn't a first time, but you seriously feel guilty about your child peeing on the NICU room. Other more experienced parents later tell you, "They're boys. Get used to them peeing on stuff for fun."

While urine continues to run down the wall, you grab another diaper and slip it under him. First task is to get the boy changed so he can no longer threaten those around him with his aim.

You clean him up, get the Desitin and shmear it on his little fanny.

Pherrrrbt.

Oh for the love of... You look. Diaper is clean. You'd wipe your forehead in relief but you know where your hand has been.

Baby cries.

PHEERRRBT, squish!

Brown goo is leaking from your son!

You sigh and grab another diaper while the nurse is suppressing a laugh. She's seen all of this before.

Diaper goes under the boy. You wait a moment until it seems to be all clear. You remove the soiled diaper, lean over to toss it and BOOM!
An explosion of brown slaps the new diaper which, luckily, has a tendency to curl upward otherwise who knows where poo would have ended up. It is so startling that you actually jump back a foot and stare at your little cute dumpling. How on earth...?

I've managed to cut down on the number of diapers by lifting their legs several times or bicycling their feet before starting to change their diapers. I stupidly bragged to Cameron one day that I had him figured out after he loudly used his diaper a few times before I even began to peel back the velcro.
But I was quickly reminded of who is boss as the song of his bowels floated into the air and the climax of the music shot across his crib, splattered his food pump and hit the ground two feet away with a smack. A droplet bounced and hit my plastic gown near the bottom. As I inspected my person for poo, I noticed it was only half a droplet and there was something wet on my shoe.
Turns out, it was bum water, but I'm sure it's not the last time I'll wonder out loud "What's on my shoe?"