The One About Poop

I’ve been posting all of the not-so-nice moments of parenthood and I sound like a Whiny McWhinerson. Oooh, speaking of whine which -> wine, I have a bottle in the fridge now that I’ve given up attempting to be Mother Superior and breastfeed twins. I know the social etiquette about drinking before five p.m., but what about drinking before five a.m.?

For the past two nights I’ve gotten these girls down at eight in the evening and they’ve not woken up until three in the morning. I think someone may be coating their bottles with Robitussin. And I love that person. But Thursday night was a bad deal all around. Harper was screaming bloody murder and absolutely refused to be consoled. Neither bottle nor poop cleanup nor dark of night could quiet the noise and I love her, dearly and with all of my wasted heart, but her cries can be mind-numbing and infuriating at the same time when one cannot puzzle out what it is that she wants.

Turns out what she wanted was to poop. Poor thing was constipated all that day, that night, and most of Friday. And let me tell you, after a quick convo with the pediatrician after discovering what can only be described as a poo cork on a Friday afternoon diaper change, the last thing you want is for your child to become constipated. Because what they want you to do before you resort to apple juice or Karo syrup…what they want you to do to your infant daughter with the thermometer and the Vaseline and the warm bath…well, it just seems as though it may border on wildly inappropriate and I really didn’t want to do it. I’m thanking all that’s holy that the warm bath was all we needed, and that the subsequent daily dose of apple juice has realigned the planets and kept Chaos at bay. They say that an apple a day keeps the doctor away. Well, apparently it keeps the rectal thermometer away as well, so I’m now the biggest fan of apples in the history of apple fans, I do declare.

My brother in law has really taken to these girls, and fawns over them and buys them presents as though they are famous socialites or something. The one thing he just doesn’t have the stomach for – bless his heart – is poop. He’s always here helping and playing with them but when he opens a diaper to find that they’ve cooked him a treasure he hands them off to us. Even the talk of poop brings a reflexive grimace to his face. I’ve assured him that having children throws one headlong into a necessary comfort with poop and pee and puke and all of the important “p” words, really. One month ago I would have needed an entire Hazmat scrub-down had I found myself with poop on my finger or puke between my breasts. Now here I am, having had a close encounter of every kind with pretty much every mucousy, smelly, biohazardy bodily fluid an infant girl can produce and standing here to tell the tale.

It’s amazing how comfortable one gets with children – and with all of their byproducts – when one is given the task of keeping one of the little creatures alive. It’s funny…the thought of handling another person’s baby still makes me cringe with discomfort, but I’ve gotten comfortable swinging mine around like those crazy ass mother apes you see on the Discovery channel.

Random note to close on: I’m craving cigarettes and chocolate soft serve ice cream like it’s my job. The ice cream I get. Ice cream is delicious. But I’ve not had a cigarette since day three of my honeymoon. The day I discovered that I was pregnant. The smell of cigarette smoke now turns my stomach. Yet all I can think about right now is rocking on my porch with a Camel Crush. What is wrong with me?

5 thoughts on “The One About Poop

  1. Ha! It is a bloke thing with the nappies I’m sure. The only time the Man ever changed nappies for our boys was in the delivery room when shamed into it by the nurse. I was still incapacitated and if it was not for them I’m sure he would have just waited until I was back on my feet to do it myself.
    After that day it never happened again sadly, but now I get to taunt him with his complete hopelessness!

    • I am so, so lucky that Mike has been willing to get down and dirty – literally – with the dipes. I have to say, I’ve actually gagged more times than he has. I’m a bit ashamed, really. In fact, it being Father’s Day here and all, I really need to give a shout out to him (even though he doesn’t read my blog…I don’t think he reads my blog…hmmm…). After a rather chilly conversation about how much I need him to bite the bullet and get out of bed at three in the morning with me due to the fact that, sadly, I am not Kali with her four arms, he’s really stepped up and been a huge help all around.

      It’s been funny, showing my brother in law how to do all of the things that need to be done with a baby. He does change diapers, and swaddles, and feeds and burps and plays and coos and the whole nine yards. He’s a big bear of a man, but he turns into butter as soon as he walks in the door. I’ve been pleasantly shocked by his response to them. And his comments have gone from “If we ever have a kid,” to “when we have a kid.” So I think he may be jumping on the bandwagon before too long. I think he was just waiting for someone else to go first. Like when you have to give a presentation in front of the class. =)

      • Having kids is really scary so it does help to see someone like your own self surviving when they take the plunge, of course your BIL gets to hand the babies back and go home when it all starts to go wrong. Once you have your own you are stuck with them no matter how bad it gets šŸ™‚ My sister had a baby a few months ago and I think she is still suffering from the shock of it being 24/7!

      • Yeah, I think we’re still suffering from the same shock as your sister. =) My mother always says “the best parents in the world are the ones who don’t have kids.” I’ve noticed that BIL has lots to say about what WILL happen and how things ARE going to go when he has kids, and also diagnosing a lot of the problems that we have and offering “advice” based on it. I have to just smile and nod and keep my comments to myself. My comments, of course, being that (a) you have no idea what you’re in for until you’re in over your head, no matter how much you study up and (b) just when you get used to the routine and start to build up some confidence, the baby (babies!) change up their schedule and send you right back to square one. That’s something I was not prepared for. I thought I’d be constantly building on what I knew and that I’d reach parenting level 87 within a few months, but every day is entirely different. Every need is different every time they have it. There is no “learning the ropes.”

        I can’t wait for BIL to have one, because he’s the king of confidence and it will be fun to see him learning that there’s no routine to it. =)

      • The day he is on his knees beside the cot crying ‘nooooooo!’ because he just has no clue what the baby wants will be an eye opener for him! That changing the rules thing seems to be a constant for kids, my squids are still keeping me on my toes and I really think after all this time I would have worked them out by now!

        People without kids are so good at knowing what to do until it is 3am and their own kid has spent days working up to a massive outburst that makes them doubt their sanity. It might be wrong but there is a quiet sense of satisfaction in the rest of us when that happens šŸ™‚

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