Poop.

We all do it.  It’s just part of life.  There’s even a book about it. “The Truth About Poop.”  Granted, I’ve never had the pleasure of reading this fine piece of literature, however, I am sure that I’d enjoy it as much as the next gal.

Apparently Gracie Has Been Reading...

As many of you know, when you have a baby, poop becomes an obsession, or at least it has for me.  Things such as, color, texture, consistency, frequency and even smell become a daily ritual of investigation.  I am becoming quite the expert in Bitzy’s poopy’s.  You may call me, a Poopologist.

Yes, that is my official title.

In the four short months that she’s been in my arms there have been many a blow-out.  Some worse than others, but there have been a few monumental, history making blowouts…some involving the wall, the car seat and on many occasions, me.

Lovely picture isn’t?

Being a fancy schmancy Poopologist, I, of course, investigate each poopy and mentally tally my findings.

So this afternoon my little lady was taking a nap snuggled in my arms when I heard the old familiar sound of her sweet little baby squirts.  I know that I’m biased and think that everything she does is cute, but you would too.  Her squirts are so darling.

Anyway, after the first sound I looked at Zach and said, “Yay!  She’s making a poopy!”  Then the second sound came, “Wow, it’s a big one.”  Then, the third, “Uh-Oh.”

At this point she’s laying on me leisurely taking turns between eating and sleeping.  I keep waiting for her to wake up and want her diaper changed, but she didn’t even stir.  She was really really asleep.

So, I decided to wait until she woke up to change her.  What’s the hurry, right?

How can you resist her?

Then, I felt a dampness creeping up my stomach. I have felt this feeling before and it has never ended well.

The child pooped all over me.

It was on my shirt, my arms, my stomach.

Everywhere.

Her magic poop had burst out of her diaper with magnetic force and found it’s way all over both of us.

Granted, she’s exclusively breastfed so her poopy’s aren’t the stinky-set-off-the-smoke-alarm sort, but still, poop is poop.

So, I gingerly and softly coax her into waking up, which is never a good idea.  She instantly buried her face into my neck and pressed her yummy baby tummy further into my chest, which I adored…however, it did further spread the poopy from to me with more vengeance than before.

Finally, she woke up and we ventured upstairs to take a bath, with Zach gagging the whole way as Bitzy and me giggled.

Turns out, Bitzy loves to spread her poopy’s, in fact, it makes her chuckle.  And of course, her laughter is by far and away the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard and it makes me laugh.

So here we go, covered in poop and belly laughing our way to the bathtub. If only we had a video of this scene.

After the bath, as Zach lotioned her up and dressed her, I got in the shower myself.

Before my Mommy days, I would have said  that baby poop was gross and I would have literally been puking my guts out, but now I’m just thankful that she’s pooping at all.

Pooping=good digestion=good eating=GROWING!

While I want her to stay my tiny little itsy bitzy forever, I suppose that the only alternative to growing is not growing and I sure don’t want that, so grow baby grow and poop baby poop...however, let’s try to keep it in your diaper next time, OK?

Love to all,