Thar She Blows!

Blowouts are inevitable! Yellow, runny poop can hide in places you didn’t even know existed on your baby. What’s even worse is that sometimes they will just stew in it, perfectly happy without a complaint. Then the smell hits you. But it’s not a normal doo doo smell. Someone once described it as a breakfast food smell. No breakfast I ever had! Someone else said it smells like movie theater popcorn…way to ruin that for me. But the best thing about blowouts (sarcasm font needed) is that they wait until the most inopportune time to let it fly. Just when you’ve put a freshie on them, new outfit, plopped them in their car seat for a trip to the grocery store, started the car, and made it around the block…wham! Blowout city!

Now that the munchkin is eating some solid foods, we’ve entered a whole new realm of poop. (I know this is just what you wanted to read about.) New textures, colors, and smells! Oh my! The contents of her diapers closely resemble what she ate at her previous meal: think liquidy prunes. Yummy! Never did I think I’d be so enthralled with what comes out of her rear end. However, I’m not one of those moms who carefully inspects each dirty diaper, but I do take a quick peek to make sure everything is normal. Because sometimes it’s so much that you think she might’ve pooped a squirrel — like on Anchorman.

There is this whole method of infant potty-training called Elimination Communication where the parent looks for the baby’s bathroom cues then rushes them to the toilet or a nearby pot. This just screams disaster to me. I wouldn’t have the patience for it at all. Plus, you’d have to be agile enough to spring into action at any given moment. You’d probably be better off getting a parakeet and letting it fly around your house to poop willy-nilly on all your furniture.

Potty-training this early is enticing, but this method isn’t for me. More power to those who are brave enough to try it though. E.C. really gives new meaning to the term “baby poop” when referring to an unattractive shade of green or yellow paint! While I’m all for a “pop” of color in a room, baby poop is not really the look I’m going for.

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Where Is the Snooze Button on This Baby?

“5 more minutes, mom.” I’m not pleading with my mom though, I’m pleading with my baby! Wouldn’t it be so nice if she did have a snooze button. She doesn’t —  I’ve looked all over. To be able to push on her head like Small Wonder and sleep for at least ten more minutes would be glorious. But you know I’d start to abuse it, snoozing for at least an hour. Why do we do that to ourselves? I remember going through a phase when I was younger that I would purposely set my alarm clock for a half hour earlier and hit the snooze until I really had to get up. Is that why it’s so hard to tear myself from the covers now? Or is it because it’s not on my terms?

A baby dictates the schedule from day one. If she’s crying, you’re up trying to soothe her. When she’s awake for the day (even if she’s just babbling to herself in her crib) that means you’re awake too. When she’s taken a massive dump in her pants and you can smell it down the hallway, you don’t get to change her diaper when it’s convenient for you. You change that dirty diaper even if your eyes are still full of sleep. When she’s screaming because she’s starving even though she just ate two hours earlier, then it’s boobie time. Forget that you were in the middle of a dream where you were kissing James Franco. My favorite is when she’s up earlier than normal — happy and smiling at the crack-o-dawn. I bring her in my bed to show her it’s still sleepy time, but she’s bright-eyed and ready to play. She slaps me on the face and tries out her newest, loudest vocalizations. Only when I fully give up on trying to sleep and surrender to the day, does she decide that she’s tired again and needs her morning nap. She’s got a cruel sense of humor. (But at least she has one.)

Babies don’t have snooze buttons, but what a wonderful world if they did.