When you have a baby, pretty much the last time and place you ever want to realize that they’re pooping is when they’re still in the crib, first thing in the morning. Still wearing the diaper you put them in 12 hours before. Because that diaper? It probably doesn’t have a lot of space in it for poop.
Guess what happened this morning?
The most epic poop blowout known to mankind*.
The Husband had just gotten up with Baby C and the Threenager, planning to give me an extra 30 minutes of sleep (I know. I love him, trust me.). But about 30 seconds after he closed the door, he came back in and quietly said, “I…umm…I can’t…I think this is a two-person job.”
I inwardly rolled my eyes, got out of bed and came over. Come on, I do this every day! I thought. How bad can it be?
Pretty fucking bad, actually.
I remember, when baby C was born, how excited I was to have plain old breastfed-baby poop to clean. That stuff just smells like sour milk! It’s all liquid and easy to wipe up! Way better than solid-food poop, which can be pasty and stinky and all kinds of disgusting. I can’t exactly say I enjoyed cleaning the younger baby stuff, but I didn’t mind it nearly as much as I mind cleaning toddler poop.
Well, guess who started solids, not too long ago? Poor little fella, his gut is trying to figure it all out still, so things aren’t…well regular yet. So I knew it was coming. But, wow.
I’ll spare you the details.
<and then she laughed maniacally, because she had already shared so many goddamn details>
That little dude had poop between his toes. He had poop in his belly button. He had poop in his armpits. THAT. SHIT. WAS. EVERYWHERE. And the Teenager had just gone in to the bathroom for her daily 45 minute shower, so the only thing we could do was grab a plastic bag for the dirty sleeper, and then wipe. And wipe. And wipe. And wipe.
Epic, epic poop.
* Shut up. I know your kid’s poop blowout was waaaaay worse.