Terrible Analogies

What’s goin’ on?

I wanted to give my daddy the night off from blogging.  He had a tough day at work.  I told him that I’d post for him tonight as soon as he changed my diaper.

Here’s my daily afternoon routine:

1- Get home from work
2- Eat dinner
3- Play with baby / cat / imaginary friend
4- Contemplate what it would be like to win the lotto
5- Wash the dishes
6- Take shower
7- Write my blog post

But…today was different.  Today, when I attempted to log on to my blog, I was greeted with the “beach ball of death”.  WTF?  The wheels were spinning, but the blog wouldn’t load.

Calling my hosting solution I was told that they were having “issues with the server”, and that somebody was working on it.  Apparently they’ve been having issues with my server off and on all afternoon.

As I write this it’s 10pm and my site is sometimes up, sometimes down.

I am a sad blogger…

I can only hope that this post goes live at my traditional 1:01am publishing time…

Note: No, this is not a picture of Tyler…

Karin: “What ‘cha doing?”
Me: “Just watchin’ Chowder with Tyler.”
Karin: “Awww….”

How does one feed baby and surf the internet at the same time?  I think I’ve come up with a viable solution:

The only caveat is that my left leg will eventually fall asleep, so I’ll have to tweak this solution a bit to come up with the most comfortable position.

I was changing Tyler’s diaper this afternoon when I noticed a sudden increase in diaper weight. Setting Tyler down I pulled away the velcro tabs, peeled away the diaper, and was shocked at what I discovered.

Judging by the sheer amount of carnage, I can only assume that a fecal matter explosive device (FMED) was set off in my son’s diaper.  I was stunned by the overwhelming amount of waste that Tyler was swimming in.  Covered equally back and front by a thick film of goo, little Tyler was coated in a mess that seemd beyond the ability of baby wipes to clean, and I began to wonder if any company made a product designed to attack such a frantic mess.  I was seriously contemplating grabbing the giant sponge I use to wash the cars with or the wet/dry vacuum to assist me in sopping up this horrific endeavor.  It was as if I was looking at the aftermath of an all night whiskey-and-laxative party, and somebody had forgotten to stock up on toilet paper.

I was repulsed, but was quite impressed that the diaper’s elastic bands had created a tight enough seal around his legs and waist to contain this destructive force of nature that mere minutes before dwelt deep within my son’s bowels.  The lack of leakage lulled me into a false sense of security, failing to prepare me for the pure evil that lurked within the cottony confines of my son’s Pampers.

I can only assume that this is a sick shared cosmic joke that all unsuspecting new parents must fall prey to.