I knew it was coming. It was hard to not know. It had been four days already since it had showed up. Day One with no visit and you think nothing of it. Day Two you think, "Did it come yesterday?" On Day Three you think, "Hmm. It should come today." Day Four you know you have to do something to entice it to come if it doesn't want to show up on it's own.
Of course, by Day Four your baby also lets you know.
Yeah. This is a blog post about poop. I'll probably detour along the way because in a way I think they are what I do best. Maybe being scattered is not so bad after all.
For my readers who are parents I'm sure the walk down Poo Lane (not to be confused with Pooh - the Hunny luvin' jolly ol' fat bear) will conjure up your own memories of your children and the diapers they blew out of.
My all time favorite blow out story isn't even my own. I was privileged enough to be a witness, though. My nephew, Matthew, was a teeny little baby, he still curled up in a ball when you snuggled him. It was a nice Spring day and we were in my parents huge (by my Seattle standards) back yard. My brothers and dad were sitting in lawn chairs in the grass and I was standing with my back to the garden chatting with them.
Something happened unbeknownst to us but Ike had a curious look on his face and pulled Matthew away from his chest where he was curled up like a cute little ball. Ike's white shirt was now just white on the edges. The entire middle of his shirt was covered in mustard colored poop. My first reaction was, of course, laughter. Not just ha ha. No. I was shrieking hysterically and pointing and doubling over. It was that funny.
Even funnier than all of the laughter and doubling over and pointing was my younger brother Joel's reaction. If you had to determine what was going on based on just observing Joel's initial reaction your conclusion would have to be that he saw someone pull out a gun because he dove/rolled out of his chair. If I were to tell the story more often it would eventually turn into him diving with arms outstretched as if he were trying to shield a child from the gunman.
But that would only be a slight exaggeration from the truth. Of course the whole situation grew in its hilarity when Ike had to take his shirt off. It was a delicate operation. He couldn't just peel it off like it was a wet shirt for fear of well, getting poo on his face, up his nose, etc. Mom helped by offering to turn the water hose on him.
Tonight it was Theo's turn. He chooses to have his big blowouts between 2 and 4 am. While I was grumbling about his choice of hour I thought better of complaining about it because any other time would be worse. Like he could have done it today when I was trying to get out the door to go to the gym (he instead chose to pee when I took his diaper off - THREE TIMES. Each time I pulled the diaper back after what was obviously an insufficient amount of time the little geyser started up again).
He could have done it at Taco Time - location of our family dinner tonight. Yeah, yeah, I know. Best housewife ever. In my defense we were only there because Ryan was less than thrilled about what I wanted to make for dinner - Bun Ga Nuong. I've been enamored with this dish since I first had it on Saturday - it's a Vietnamese rice noodle salad. YUM! I'm going to make it and chicken lettuce wraps for lunch and dinner tonight.
So, about 2 am this morning Theo wakes up. That's not unusual but he stays awake after I nurse him. That is unusual and kind of annoying. I make myself comfortable and lay there hoping he will go to sleep. I roll over on my side to look at him in all of his cute baby glory. Rolling over brought my nose to a point where I could smell what he did to keep himself awake.
I thought it was funny that I didn't hear anything but that was fine. At least it happened and it didn't seem to be that painful for him. I tossed back the covers and jumped out of bed. It was going to be quite the clean up. As I was rounding the bed Theo threw his little legs in the air and let out a big, big grunt.
Then I heard him lose 2 pounds. Thank God he didn't do that in his car seat. Up the back. Down the arm. Flanked on both sides. It called for an immediate bath. So great was his joy that it took him an hour to fall back asleep after his bath.
My turn.
(To fall asleep).
