Happiness in a jar (or tube!)

This is a Sponsored post written by me on behalf of Boudreaux's Butt Paste. All opinions are 100% mine.

Photo of MJ, Rog and Teyla at Brushfork falls last October, courtesy of MJ

I fell in love with Brushfork falls the first time I laid eyes on it.

No, it wasn't huge and thundering like the mighty Niagara. Brushfork falls in Mercer County, West Virginia, is way, way tinier than that. But there was something about the falls that caught my fancy the first time I quietly sat beside Rog on a huge water-polished rock a few meters from where the water plummeted over the brink into a frothy pool below. Perhaps it was the sweet silence - aside from the rushing sound of the falls - that hovered over the area like a giant, cotton candy cloud blocking out the sun on a blistering hot summer day. Or maybe it was the fact that the miracle of spring was taking place all about us the day Rog and I first visited Brushfork. Green was slowly, magically taking over the landscape. Robins were chirping in delight from the treetops. I was 7 months pregnant with our precious baby girl, Teyla. And it was just me, Rog and the waterfall that day.

"We have gotta come back here someday," I told Rog as we sat on that rock by the falls, the cool mist dampening our faces. "I want our baby girl to see this place." Rog squeezed my hand and nodded in the stillness, "We will, hon," he said softly. "I promise we will."

Fast-forward to fall of 2010. We decided to keep our promise and show our bouncy, bubbly 16-month-old Teyla the magical Brushfork falls one fine Saturday afternoon.

We left our vehicle at a parking area about a thousand feet from the falls, loaded Teyla into her Jeep stroller, then set out pushing her down an old road to the falls. Alas, maneuvering a baby stroller down a rugged path abundant with huge rocks and ruts, loose stones and roots sticking out of the ground proved to be a bigger challenge than Rog and I had anticipated. And what a bumpy ride for poor Teyla! Instead of reaching the falls in just a few minutes - the time it took us to reach it in the spring of 2007- it took us over half an hour! And that was just to get to the top of the hill overlooking the falls. The next challenge was to carry Teyla safely down the hill via a narrow dirt path that the rain had washed out in several places.  

Thankfully, the 3 of us made it to the base of the hill in one piece and breathed a sigh of relief as we took a seat on the old, flat rock Rog and I had sat on in front of the falls the first time we were there. "Look at the falls, Teyla!" we said to her, amused at the way her eyes widened with wonder as the white wall of water roared and crashed from 25 feet to the dark pool in front of us. "Woo! Woo! Woo!," went little Teyla, waving her little arms in delight as a little breeze blew some mist from the falls in our direction. I remember sitting on that rock that fine sunny day with Rog by my side, Teyla in his arms, Brushfork falls doing its thing, the whole place to ourselves, and thinking, "This must be what Heaven's like!"

Some good things never last though. Teyla started to get cranky after only about half an hour by the falls. We tried to cheer her back up by showing her rocks tossed and turned in the river's waters until they were round and smooth, some even flat. Rog took a few and skipped them across the water. Normally, Teyla would have clapped her little hands and laughed out loud. But the spark had disappeared from her eyes and, instead, she fidgeted and pulled at the back part of her pants. After a while, she started to cry. We said goodbye to the falls then, set her in her stroller and pushed her down the bumpy path back to the car, which is where I made an alarming discovery while changing her diaper.

Her bottom was an angry shade of red. No blisters yet, but it looked like some were on the verge of breaking out. I realized, with a sinking heart, that in our haste to get out of the house that day and make it to the falls before it got chilly, I had failed to apply the diaper rash cream we depend on, Boudreaux's Butt Paste. Extended contact with a soaked diaper during the bumpy trip to and from the falls was what I suspect caused Teyla's rash. I immediately cleaned her up, applied a generous amount of Butt Paste to the inflamed skin, and put a fresh diaper on her. Then I sent a silent prayer up to Heaven for the cream to work wonders on Teyla's discomfort.

Thank God and thank you, Butt Paste! The next morning, I got up to the blessed sounds of Teyla hollering happily from her crib. She was all smiles and bouncing up and down - a tremendous improvement from the fussy, crying baby by the falls the day before. A quick check showed the diaper rash was almost completely gone! Thank you indeed, Butt Paste!

Photo of a diaper-rash free Teyla riding her trike few days later, courtesy of MJ ****

Now, anytime we go out with Teyla (which is pretty much 99 percent of the time), I always make sure and stick a tube of Boudreaux's Butt Paste in my pink diaper bag.

I love Butt Paste for the following reasons: I can buy it in two convenient sizes - a jar, for leaving at Teyla's changing station at home; and a tube, for taking with us when we go out. I like that Butt Paste is easy to apply and easy to clean off, unlike other leading diaper cream brands that almost take an act of Congress to remove. I also love Butt Paste's pleasant scent.

Most importantly, I love Butt Paste and have been a big fan of it for more than a year now because it provides effective diaper rash care for Teyla. At the end of the day, that spells HAPPY BABY! And we all know that a HAPPY BABY equals a HAPPY MOMMY!

Photo of a happy Teyla playing outdoors, courtesy of MJ **** 

Visit their site to receive free samples of Boudreaux's Butt Paste, and know why I always say, "Thank you, Butt Paste." - by MJ

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