Madder than a wet baby

Every commercial break during the reunion show of Teen Mom, I was reminded by the ever-so-wise Dr. Drew that teenage pregnancy is 100% preventable.

While I was in Cambodia I wrote my final article on family size and birth control. I learned that they get shots, take the pill, or use a patch.

In my roommates Sexual Development class this week they had a lecture from the health center lady that passed out condoms and reminded them to "Wrap Your HalloWeiner" this month.

This weekend, however, I discovered the greatest birth control of all time.

My cousin, her husband, and her three children came to visit my parents this weekend and I drove home to see them.

I've never been a huge fan of kids, but I always thought that I could handle them.

Now, as a preface, let me state that as far as kids go, these ones are amazing. Betsy and Jay were made to be parents and if it were up to me they would have seven more kids. The kids are polite and well mannered and not the annoying, bratty kids I dread having one day.

When Betsy and Jay went to an engagement party, however, it was up to me and my parents to bathe and put to bed the three kids. My mom and dad got the the 4 and 2 year old boys, and I was assigned to the almost year-old girl. How hard could it be?

So far she had been incredibly happy and easy to handle, minus her obsession with climbing the stairs. I was about to encounter how incredibly ignorant I am when it comes to understanding children.

First I realized that in order to put her in the bath I would have to take off her onesie...and her diaper. Please just be pee, please just be pee, I prayed. And alas, I had found favor with the Lord.

The water was just warm enough, but definitely not hot. If I were a baby, I would want this water. This baby, however, had a different idea.

As soon as I lowered the kid into the four inches of water, her mouth gaped open and the screaming began. Assuming I must have misjudged the water, I picked her out of the water. But now she was all wet. My immediate reaction to pull her towards me and "shhhhh" her and rock her were thwarted by the fact that she was dripping. So instead I held her over the bath tub, my arms completely outstretched, as I watched her scream and cry and snot, a look of sheer terror on my face.

There was a moment there when I sent her the mental message, which I'm positive she picked up on before me, that I had no idea what in the heck I was doing.

I tried to replace her in the water once, then twice. And then I gave up. Luckily Betsy wasn't the only experienced mom around, so I brought the baby into my parents bathroom where the boys were playing in the tub. I handed over Crying Child to Mother and she calmly took her from me, sat her in the water, washed her with a washcloth for about 20 seconds, and handed her back to me. I was prepared, holding my stance behind my mom, towel draped over my arms, ready to catch the kid.

Now, had I known that you were allowed to bathe the kid while she was screaming bloody murder, I probably could have handled it. Probably. Ok, maybe.

Next, I had to put a diaper back on her. WHY DO THEY MAKE THOSE THINGS SO COMPLICATED?! The back looks exactly like the front. My mom had withheld the information that there are little tabby things on the back that wrap around to the front. Probably could have figured that out too. Ok, ok. Maybe.

After bath time was milk time. Naturally the kid didn't want to drink her milk. But she did calm down, and I sat with her for almost an hour watching the UGA game. We chilled out, relaxed a bit, maybe dozed off.

Point being: If my kid doesn't pee, poop, snot, cry, whine, or move, I can handle it. But until they make kids like that, I would like to give a big shout out to my cousin for reminding me how young and naive I am, and how I should probably stay away from children for a good five to ten to fifteen years.