Tackling Some Cradle Cap and Crap

So Future is almost 8 months old. So he still has a few flakes of cradle cap on his sweet little head, under his sweet little see through blond hair.

You'd think I haven't oiled, washed and incessantly picked his little scalp raw a hundred times before. Well, that's true. I haven't done it quite a hundred times but I've given it the old college try at least 4 or 5 times. I keep thinking, "Oh the rest will just flake away with time."

Well, apparently it never just 'flakes away'.

So after the older two were tubbied and put to bed last night, Future and I set off on mission Cradle Cap. I oiled him up (just his head, slippery babies can be hard to hang on to), donned my 'almost too big to wear' bathing suit (woo hoo), and we climbed in the tub together.

"Why the bathing suit?" you ask? Well, I meant business and we didn't need any milk jugs causing any distractions. This was not a time for snacking. This was a time for picking, scratching and scrubbing. Focus, people! Focus!

I got right down to business and began scrubbing his little head and then using my piddly nails to scrape out the scales one by one. After awhile I got bored so I resorted to random scratching, ever so gently of course.

And just as we began the second cycle of lather, rinse, repeat (that oil is no joke, you have to wash at least three times if you want to get it out), Future let out a little groan.

I figured he was getting tired of being picked on, but then I saw the real reason for the little grunt.

Floating to the surface like brown-bathing-hat wearing little synchronized swimmers were about ten thousand little baby turds.

Did I mention I was in the tub also?

I've dealt with many a poo filled tubby before, but this was the first time I truly got to experience it firsthand.

The joy of being a mama never ends, I tell ya!

I lifted Future out of the muck, called for my husband and rinsed his little heiny under the faucet in .332 seconds.

Then I was left, in a tub of poo, lonely, grossed out and dodging turds like jellyfish in the ocean. I drained the water, scrubbed out the tub with some near by cleaners. I think it was divine intervention that I had picked that day for the semi-annual cleaning of the bathroom, whose supplies are usually in the basement.

Then I got to refill the tub and disinfect my body.

You'd think a busy mom of three would treasure an opportunity to soak in uninterrupted peace. Yeah, not so much. I was out of there as quick as I could scrub myself down.

Future's head still stinks of oil and I still see scales. Oh well. Maybe they'll flake off with time.