No really, this is a post about poop. The faint of heart should turn away now. It's gonna start cute and then veer into ... ewww. Seriously. Don't say I didn't warn you. After all, I did blog this, too, so clearly I have no sense of decorum, poop-wise.
Here's the cute part:
Yes, it's part tee / part iPod, and yes, it says 'iPood' and the button on the clickwheel says 'Change Me'. Ha! Pynchon bought this shirt for Miss Baby largely to make me laugh: I'm a Mac devotee, and I'm obsessed with Miss Baby's poops.
And now that I have such a gosh-darned cute photographic pretext to raise the subject, I can finally tell you the awful, hilarious, gross, does-this-happen-to-other-people-? truth.
Miss Baby is a fresh air pooper.
That's right. She only seems to really, um, do the job, once her diaper is off and she's been wiped and prepped for a fresh one. She waggles her arms and talks to her toys. She sings. She puts her toes in her mouth, enjoying the ritual that my mother always described as 'airing it out,' and we call 'nudie bum time'. But then. WHAMMO! Her capacity to drop a major turd in the three seconds it takes to dump Diaper A into the bin (back necessarily turned) is becoming the stuff of legend in our house. The turd fairy drops some fairly hefty, unexpected gifts in that brief and apparently magical moment of non-surveillance.
Tired of these messy surprises, we began to wonder if we might see signs ... signs of an impending poop that might allow us to, urrr, put a Kleenex under it or something. And signs we have discerned. I won't go into detail here, but I can tell you the hallways around here ring with terrified cries of "It winked at me! I'm a goner for sure!" And so, sure of the poop to come, we stand at the change table. Kleenex at the ready. Waiting. For the turd (or four) that is so resoundingly certain soon to make its presence known. And then we march a series of heavily laden Kleenexes into the bathroom. We know better than to flush the first one. And Miss Baby continues to sing, and to play, interrupted occasionally by turning completely purple, or getting a look of terrible concentration, or sticking her legs straight out. The venue seems to suit her, and she's happy to stay on the table indefinitely, even if the whole process leaves her parents a bit icked out.
Sigh. Amateur turd catching. Do you think it'll ever make it to Olympic status? Exhibition or medal?
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Poop
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4 comments:
Oooh...I want that shirt! No, really, for me. Okay, maybe I'll wait a few decades (but wouldn't I just be the cooles chick in the nursing home?).
You guys sound like you have so much fun, "It winked at me!" Awesome.
Mme L wasn't so much a fresh air pooper as she was a fresh diaper pooper. She would wait until she was in a dry diaper before she dropped her load. This led to many a time where she would be changed twice or three times in the space of ten minutes. Perhaps it's the same instinct, though?
Joe, during a little bit of walk-around-the-kitchen yoni-to-the-wind time, had to catch a turd sans tissue! (Well, I say "had". I, frankly, would have let it drop on the floor.)
Oh. Ha. Ha. Ha.
Back in the day, Miss M had bouts of constipation. It got so bad that if she even started to exert herself I had her on the floor, knees to the chest, and diaper off in an effort to coax out the hard balls dung. This usually worked but I couldn't help but feel that poop-coach was a tiny step down the professional ladder.
"It winked at me"? Goodness.
iPood! Oh, I finally got it!
The Baby isn't a dramatic pooper, thankfully. I do remember that when she was brand new, she would poop whenever her legs were being lifted up while her diaper was being changed, spraying the diaper changer (her dad. Always her dad) foully. HAHAH.
Loved the shirt...just awesome. The poop story is hilarious. My daughter likes to wait until I have put on a nice fresh diaper, gotten her fully dressed to go. Not fun since she hates being undressed.
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