The Messy Things in Life

Disclaimer: If you are not the type of person who appreciates bathroom humor, today's blog post is not for you. For tonight, my friends, we are all about the Poo.

Still reading? Okay. Good.

Kaylee, it seems, loves Sze more than me. This is the only explanation I can come up with for why she saves all the really great poo stories for him. Take, for example, the very first diaper change she had after birth. Seeing how I was in bed, busted and traumatized, I wasn't exactly up for the challenge of getting up and changing a diaper. So Sze wheels over the little bassinet they had and starts taking care of the task.

Thing is, among the many factoids that escape the attention of the hospital staff as falling into the NEED to know category is this: the first time a baby poos, it's not a dainty little stripe on the diaper. They're emptying their body of amniotic fluid and all sorts of other joyous nasties. This takes a while. Like, QUITE a while. So, as I am gazing up adoringly at my husband for taking on this task since I can't, I hear this:

"OH more poo. Oh God, more poo! MORE POO!"

At least our child will know laughter.

The first time she "armed the poo canon" during a diaper change, Sze had the privilege of being on the receiving end. The first time she overflowed her diaper and ended up STRAIGHT in the bathtub, Sze survived the aftermath. All this time, while I have had a share of the... more spectacular pyrotechnic displays of the gastrointestinal kind, I was snickering into my sleeve because he got all the really funny ones.

Well, not anymore. On Friday, after a fairly spectacular poo, Kaylee and I went to the pediatrician (not for poo reasons... nevermind). While there, our fantastic doctor asked about the "frequency of her stools." I replied,

"Well, she hasn't been going that often, but she just had a complete Poo Apocalypse."

He stared at me, obviously trying a.) not to completely crack up and b.) to figure out how to guide this conversation.

"Well," he starts after a fairly long pause, "has she had a ... stool... apocalypse... before today?"

It took every fiber of my being not to laugh out loud.

And then, there was today.

If you don't know me in person, or don't know me well, I should tell you, I have a Temper. One close friend who has known me for most of my life calls it "Celtic Warrior Banshee Woman" mode. Another says I throw "word grenades" that explode all around me. Whatever your metaphor, when I get angry (legitimately angry, not just irritated or ticked off), it's usually forceful and loud.

For reasons that don't need to be detailed here, I had just finished losing my Temper. In a BIG way. Having reached a total impasse between myself and the wall I had been screaming at, I took a deep breath and went into the nursery to calm the crying Kaylee. I pick her up and she immediately silences. I am soothed. There is nothing like holding your baby to bring you back in touch with the Light Side of the Force. I stroke her little head and say, "Oh, baby, what is all this fuss?" in perfect mommy baby talk.

And she blows out her diaper.

There's nothing like the messy things in life to bring it all into perspective, is there?

You get no recipe tonight because, well, eww. That's just not appropriate. Enjoy your night, though!

Ciao!