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With a gentle hand, Greg pats her back. “Nothing’s wrong. Go back to sleep, hun.” God, they’re a fucking circus these days. Is that what I’ll be like when our little nugget is born?
As Sam settles back into her dinner nap, Tilly clears her throat. “If you guys want sleep, Tommy and I could watch TJ tonight,” she says it like she’s unsure. After our short talk this morning, I know she’s not too sure about babies. Maybe this is just what she needs. TJ doesn’t seem like he cares who’s holding him, and I’ve been known to rock the kid to sleep a few times.
Greg starts laughing. “Uh, no offense, Til, but he’s kind of a terror at night. I don’t think you—”
“Dude,” I say and give him the stink eye.
He clams up, his face going serious. “That’d be awesome.”
Sam is snoring loudly now, and my mom starts to gather plates. When she gets to Sam, she sighs. “Oh, I remember those days. I couldn’t eat, sleep, or pass gas without a kid in my face.” She sounds wistful, like the memories are cherished, but I have to be real, that doesn’t really sound all that fun.
Of course, Sam is oblivious to it all. Chuckling a bit through his own yawn, Greg hands the little tyke to me. I gaze into the bundle of blankets in my arms. TJ is awake, his wide, hazel eyes scanning me with low brows. He looks content, if not a little judgmental. I stay in my seat as Greg wakes his wife and they walk to the guest room while Sam mumbles something about ‘dancing hotdogs.’
“Yes, babe, you tell those hotdogs,” Greg says with a snicker. Tilly ignores all of them to come to my side. She looks down at TJ and then at me. Her face is unreadable, and that makes me worried. “What’s up?” I ask.
She sighs and kisses my cheek. “Good thing we’re already pregnant cause this is putting my ovaries into overdrive.”
I laugh loudly but immediately realize my mistake. TJ lets out a wail and my face drains of color. Every other time, Greg would save me from the crying.
Tilly takes a step back from me. “What’d you do?” she asks like I punched the kid.
“Just laughed! I didn’t know he hated joy.”
“Well, make it stop.” She’s gesturing at TJ like a rabid dog. Uh oh, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
***
Hours later, we’re not doing much better. For all the love I have for this kid, I’m starting to believe he’s some sort of demon.
Tilly has mastered holding him, which is a huge step in and of itself. The first time I handed him over, she looked at him like he was about to attack. But like a pro, she now has him against her shoulder, lightly patting his back while shushing as she paces the floor.
I’m lying on the couch, my forearm over my eyes. “Wake her up,” I groan out.
But Tilly is shaking her head. “No way. This is our bootcamp, Thomas Jonah Hillcrest, and I will not give up.”
“Well, I’m going to sleep then.” I’m half on my feet when I spot her glare. Oh boy, if looks could kill, I’d be six feet under. “Or not,” I add and sit back down.
She walks by me, and I perk up with a sniff. “Uh, Tilly, was that you?”
“Was what—” I can see the minute the smell hits her. First her eyes widen, then her face pales. She rushes over and gently hands me TJ before sprinting down the hall. I can hear her throwing up from the living room. Huh, never would have thought she could sound like a dinosaur getting a prostate exam, but there you go.
I look down at the fussy boy as another whiff of feces hits my nose. “Good for you, champ.” I’m half chuckling as I grab the diaper bag. There’s a little mat thing that I lay down on the living room rug first before setting TJ on his back. He’s squirming and screaming now, his tiny fists pumping almost as fast as his legs.
I unsnap the onesie and tumble back on my knees at what I see.
Poo. Everywhere. None of it is contained in the actual diaper. “Holy hell!” I say just as Tilly comes back. But at the sight of the yellowish-brown mess, she’s rushing back to the bathroom.
I don’t blame her. This is apocalypse level poo, and apparently, diapers are just for show. With my head turned to the side, I grab a handful of wipes and get to work. I have to practically hold him upside down by his legs to get everything off his back.
Just as I’m grabbing his fresh diaper, Tilly slowly approaches. “Is it safe?”
Quietly, I chuckle. As God as my witness, I will never laugh in front of this kid again. “Yes. He’s all clean.” Right as I say it, little TJ stops fussing. He’s looking at me with, dare I say it, happy eyes. I smile at him. Guess the kid just needed to let the brown devil out. “See? All happy,” I say, pointing down. But right as I do, something wet hits me in the cheek. I turn my head only to have what I now know is a stream of urine hit me in the nose. “Oh shit,” I say, jumping up.
Tilly isn’t losing her dinner now. No. My traitorous baby momma is laughing so hard, she’s doubled over. Something I have learned tonight, babies with penises have entirely great aim. Yes, you heard that right. Great aim. He hit me in the nose, and it dripped down into my mouth. I’m sputtering and spitting like a fool while Tilly continues her loud laughing fit. “Go get me a shirt, brat,” I say. She leaves the living room, and I turn my glare on TJ. “Not cool, man.” Brows furrowed, I take my shirt off and toss it in the same pile as the poo-filled onesie TJ was wearing. Then, I use some of his wet wipes to clean myself up a little and finally get the fresh diaper on him. By the time I am done, little man is fast asleep.
I get him in some footsie pajamas as Tilly comes back to our side. I offer him out, and she trades me for a new white t-shirt. At least she’s taking him without protesting; seems I’ve earned that much by dealing with the nasty diaper. “You feeling okay?” I ask.
“Oddly hungry,” she says. My girl needs food? Say no more. I peck her cheek, but that earns me a frown. “You smell like pee.”
