Juicy Babies

I normally do not begin an article with a caveat, but I'm making an exception this time. If you have a weak stomach, are feeling nauseous, do not like gross stuff, have recently eaten something or something like you do not take into risk, quit while you are ahead. If you continue on either because you are strong in the gullet or are just morbidly curious, do not send me any dry cleaning bills because I warned you.

Oh, is there a more joyous time than when you get the news that a little one is on the way? Assuming, of course, that you were hoping for a little one. If you were one of those not excited about getting a bundle of joy, assume for the next few minutes you were happy. The news started to go out about the big upcoming event. Cute, sweet, cuddly, precious, wonderful and soft are all words that come to mind to describe the stork's payload. Well, I have decided after having my two children that another descriptor needs to be added to the list– juicy. Yep, I have not seen one yet that does not leak from every orifice they have. Babies are indeed juicy.

If you are a parent or have spent a significant amount of time caring for a child, you know exactly what I mean. The various and assorted fluids that a kid produces all amount to a production of liquid and goo that DuPont would be proud of. I have no idea how a 15 pound infant that takes in 30 ounces of milk a day can produce 7 gallons of juice in return. There are certainly laws of physics being violated here somehow.

The thing that makes it even worse is the way they produce it in ambush form. It's like having a street gang in your neighborhood where random drive-by slimings occurs regularly. You never know when one is near so you either learn to stay prepared all the time or become impersonated to the fact that an attack has been launched. There is nothing worse than walking barefoot across the carpet and feeling a wet something under your foot. Sometimes I'm even afraid to look. I usually just hop away in a dramatic demonstration of my ranting and gagging prowess. In an effort to one-up my daughter, my son opened up the world of acid reflux to us. "Acid Reflux" a medical technical term that translates "spews like Mount Kilauea". The absolute worst thing that happened to me, though, was when he popped a cork of Enfamil bubbly down my shirtless back in the middle of the night. I got a full body shiver so badly I'm surprised he did not end up with shaken baby syndrome and all I could do was run in circles screaming "It's on me! Let me tell you, there is not a shower hot enough to get that sensation off of you. It's like getting PCP in your system, once it's there, its there. I occasionally still feel it out of the blue. Brrrr.

I think teaching may be one of the largest point source producers of juice. It's maybe not as gross as some of the other juice forms, but well made up for in sheer volume. There was an instance recently where I had my son sitting on my shoulders and he proceeded to drool a river on top of my head to the point my hair was wet with baby spit. And I've just resigned myself to the fact that my shoulders are going to be teeth toys until he is fourteen.

And what is with their little noses? I have seen leaky spigots before but kids do not come equipped with the first o-ring I can change. We've all heard the expression "You can pick your friends and you can pick your nose, but you can not pick your friends nose." I wish someone would have told me about the parent version that says "You will not see your friends nearly as much and you will be expected to pick your kids nose." I never imagined in my worst dream that I'd be wiping noses, that were not my own mind you, with my bare fingers, but I'm telling you it has happened. And is there anything better than a full-on sneeze right in the kisser? Invariably, this will happen when your hands are full and the only thing you can do is try and get your face into a breeze so it dries quickly. And speaking of drying, I do not know what that stuff is made of, but once it does dry, you need a wrecking ball and jack hammer to break it loose.

I do not think I need to go on, but I will just a little bit anyway. I could not end something like this without venturing into the diaper zone (hey, I never said this was sophistic or classy). The stories of what happens (especially where little boys are concerned) when the diaper comes off are legendary. I had a hard time believing it until I witnessed it for myself. All babies, including the girls, come equipped with a most impressive water cannon. I've seen my daughter launch some pretty amazing streams, too. If you have ever seen the fountains in front of the Bellagio Hotel in Las Vegas you can imagine the show. The difference is there is no musical accompaniment and I've never seen anyone take a shot to the eye while standing on Las Vegas Boulevard. It may be sterile, but that does not offer much consolation in the moment.

Do not get me wrong, I love them to pieces and would not trade them for the world. I just wish that when we had all those baby showers someone would have given me a rain coat.