You can know anything. It's all there. You just have to find it.

-Neil Gaiman


Wednesday, April 14, 2010

The Straight Poop

This is one of the new daily conversations in the Braun house.

Me (home from work): When did she last eat?

Matt: about 2.

Me: Did she poop?

Matt: Not yet. Just pee.

Me: Uh-oh.

Matt: Yep, still waiting.

This is what we need to discuss everyday. Did Sena poop? If so, was it a big poop? What color was the poop? The texture? Etc... Our day is not complete until she has pooped and we can tell her, "You pooped! Good job!"

And now that she has just started solid food, we are even more interested in poop. The poop has changed. There's more. And it smells worse. Yesterday, when she looked at me with that familiar grin, I said, "Oh goody, you pooped. Let's go change your diaper!" Then proceeded to sing the Diaper song, which goes something like this:

Diaper! Diaper! Diaper, Baaaaaayyybeeeee!

But when I removed her stretchy pants I was not prepared for what was awaiting me.

She wears a white cotton onesie under her clothes. But the onesie wasn't white anymore.

From her chest down to her diaper the onesie was tinted a dark, sinister green.

I was scared to lift it. I was scared to touch anything. I didn't really know what to do. Sena just stared at me as if to say, "Why are you looking at me like that? That diaper isn't going to change itself, lady!"

So I unsnapped and peeled it back.

Her poop had shot up the entire front of her diaper. It was the color and consistency of guacamole. Bad guacamole.

I still didn't know what to do. How do you get a poop-slathered onesie off a wriggling baby without getting it all over?

Short answer: You can't.

The army green doodie was everywhere. I started scraping it off with baby wipes. More baby wipes. Then some more baby wipes. I tried to wrestle it off her without getting poop on her face. Then she got it on her hands. Which she immediately tried to shove in her mouth. I screamed, "No!" and grabbed her arm and then I got it on me. I felt like I was in some B-grade ripoff version of a Judd Apatow movie. The poop scene. Hilarity does not ensue.

Somehow I got her stripped down and cleaned up and bathed and hoped that there would be no long-term damage from her accidentally sampling her own excrement. I mean, really, I ate dirt and sand and a few milkbones as a kid. Once I even tasted roadsalt. You know that blue stuff that people say will burn a hole in your tongue? That's why I tried it. I wanted to see if it did. I wanted be the freak with a hole in her tongue.

Well, I turned out fine. Sort of.

Sena, to her credit, was completely unfazed. I fear that in the future I will find her outside, sitting on a snowbank, sampling the roadsalt.

1 comment:

Christina Rodriguez said...

Another hilarious post, Mindy! I would've figured you'd use scissors and rubber gloves to remove the onesie, but then again you'd be out a onesie. I hope it was able to be cleaned.