Madelynn never gets diaper rash. A little pink? Sure, but it always goes away after one swipe of Desitin. This though, this was a diaper rash. It was angry red. It was raw and raised and it hurt her. I globbed Desitin on in layers, and then I globbed on a little more. FOR DAYS. Each morning, I would find the rash even angrier, almost to the point of bleeding. I felt horrible! I'm a damn good diaper changer, I swear! How did this happen? I still don't know, but I knew I had to get rid of it ASAP. After globbing that smelly cream again to no avail, I launched the Desitin into the closet in a diaper-rash-rage. It was time to consult the internet. After typing "how to get rid of diaper rash" and skipping over the bajillion Desitin ads, I came to a website titled "Top ten uses for breast milk." Total duh. I had always heard about using the liquid gold for earaches and pinkeye, but it never occurred to me that it could cure some mean diaper rash.
But how do you get the milk onto the diaper rash? I haven't pumped in ages. There was no way I could even locate each pump piece if my life depended on it. The website suggested frozen breast milk (we didn't have any) or to hand express the milk into a cup, using a syringe to squirt it on the rash. That seemed like a ton of work, and who just has a syringe laying around? I didn't think I would really need that much, and besides, I have good aim...
With Mads half naked on the changing table, I pulled out boob B and started squirting. I'm leaning over to better control the spray when I see Jeffrey in the door way. I thought maybe he had broken his neck, I've never seen it snap that hard.
"What the hell are you doing??"
Now, I can imagine it was an odd sight to witness. It's not everyday you see your better half spraying milk all over your naked baby's bottom. I still don't think it deserved a "what the hell," but...
"It's just a diaper rash."
::Neck snap number two::
"What the-the-t are you doing??"
He's stuttering by now. That was when I became a little agitated. Jeffrey was looking at me like I had morphed from loving Mommy into a one eyed, one horned, flying purple baby-eater. Could he not see that I was simply playing Medicine Woman in the nursery? Yes, it probably looked a little strange to see my breast dangling over my child's private area, but let's be real here. After explaining to Jeffrey the top ten uses for breast milk (while still cupping breast B with hand B and holding Mads still with hand A), he moved closer to get a better view of the healing process. With Jeffrey's guidance (you're dribbling on her thigh, that's better, to the left, what's wrong with that lazy duct?) we managed to get the job done.
Embarrassing. That was yesterday. Today, diaper rash is gone. Fuck you, Desitin.