The Wiener Blanket
Ok. So let’s talk about a couple of things.
This post is mostly about genitals, FYI.
I have never, ever, in my life felt so afraid of a penis. I mean, not that I’m the resident expert on all things balls and sticks, but it’s not like one has ever really made me feel uncomfortable. Unless you count the drunk loser who asked me to dance at a bar once, and tried to press his boner against me the entire time.
I’m talking about Little Buddy’s little armadillo. First of all, there is the new problem of learning how to clean shit off a set of testicles. Seeing as I don’t have any of my own, I’m unsure as to just how sensitive they are. And sometimes, shit sticks to the skin. No big deal, right? Because it isn’t like I’ve never changed a dirty diaper. But here’s the thing about balls. The skin is kind of, I don’t know, loose? So when you try and wipe, the skin moves around. Kinda like the skin on an old man’s neck. And I’m scared I’m going to hurt them.
Then I have to remind myself to lift the little things up and get under there. Again, is this uncomfortable? To have your balls lifted and cleaned under?
And then, I am amazed at the sheer size of an infants testicles relative to the rest of his body. It seems a bit excessive. When Bestie came to see us in the hospital after Buddy was born, we were chatting about this phenomenon as the nurse eavesdropped. We concluded that it was a baby thing, to which the nurse replied ” OR, he could just have big balls.” Now personally, I like a good size set of nuts on a man, so I’m hoping that this will be something he can be proud of later on. Right?
Now. Here’s the scary part. His little armadillo is capable of projectile pissing. He’s not even two weeks old, and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been soaked in baby pee. And not a dribble. Fucking soaked. The other night it soaked through the comforter on the bed, the mattress cover, my clothes and my underwear. HOW dose something so small produce that? How? So now I’m gun shy. Every time I change his diaper, it’s a race to get the balls taken care of and the old diaper off and the new one on before he pisses on me. It’s like a video game, where you keep trying to beat the same level over and over again without dying.
But I am a genius. I have a designated receiving blanket that we have called “the wiener blanket”. So as soon as I wipe the shaft, I cover it up with the wiener blanket and hold it in place with his feet. Then I deal with the balls. Etc. So far, so dry.
See? I got this kids.
I roared a 9 pound baby out of my vag, I can figure out some male genitalia.