Poop.

June 2, 2011 at 9:06 pm Leave a comment

As you can tell, my creative juices are just flowing at maximum rate lately.  Except… they’re NOT.  AT ALL.  Someone give me some inspiration.  I have a feeling that once I start the C25K running program, I will feel inspired and challenged, and perhaps I will have some of that to share with my dear readers.  PS:  Does anyone wanna join me on the program?   I downloaded the podcasts from Running Into Shape, and they have all the prompts, etc. for each day and each week.   Let me know if you wanna join and we can perhaps motivate each other.  We all could use a little bit of motivation.

But for now, I’m going to be awesome and talk about poop, because a good chunk of my life revolves around it now, and has, for the past 7 months really.  First there was the awesome mid-birth poop, which I’m blogging about because I find hilarious, and not gross in the least.  I wrote about it before, how I thought it was funny, because as I was pushing my dear baby down into the birth canal and out of me, I knew exactly when I pooped, and made sure to ask my doctor and nurse “Did I just poop!?”  Of course they answered yes.  After I gave birth, I expressed fear at having my first post-partum poo, and I super appreciated my doctor’s response: “Well, see, it’s good you went tonight!”  Now, that, THAT, is compassion.

So there was that, and then we progressed to anxiously awaiting the first meconium poo, which came, and it came full force.  And then it stopped for awhile due to jaundice and my boy being essentially starved ’cause this mama wasn’t producing enough milk.   So we waited, and I have never been so excited for my boy to poop as I was those couple of nerve-wracking days where the dipes were just consistently not dirty.

Cycle back to post-partum bowel movements, read: NOT FUN AND SUPER SCARY PANIC INDUCING FEAR DRIVING MOMENTS.   Sometimes they require the assistance of a little stool softener, and they often require the assistance of truck loads of fiber.  My favourites were prunes, fruit, vegetables, and fiber packed cereals.  So, when those big PPP’s happen, they are cause for celebration.

Fast forward to, once again, the boy’s poops.  They happened every diaper change for a little while, and then went to twice a day, and now they are typically consistently once a day in the morning when he’s eating his breakfast.  Awesome and so routine.  (Plus, makes those poopy cloth diapers even easier to clean – it’s not even that hard in the first place, but anywho – because I just toss a biodegradable flushable liner in the diaper that I know is gonna be a poopy one.  Simple!)  (CADE, I am SO sorry I am blogging to the world about your poops!)  Last week, a friend and I went for a walk with our little ones in tow, of course.  At the end of our walk, we were standing in the parking lot by the wier, getting ready to say our goodbyes, and obviously the topic of baby pooping came up.  At that moment, a professional looking gentleman in a suit walked by, and I looked at my friend, and my friend looked at me.  We knew.  We both had the same look.  This is what it has come to.

(I believe it was that same week where I met a different friend for a walk, and after doing our hello hugs, she pointed out the small bit of leftover dry toothpaste on my face.  This is also what it has come to.)

On a non-human-but-still-poop-related-note, today I was dancing with the boy in the living room, and we happened to notice a woman walking by with her dog.  They stopped in front of our house, on the patch of grass between the sidewalk and the road, and the dog did the potty dance.  I watched for a bit, and couldn’t discern whether dear old pooch was peeing or pooping.  I stared at its backend but still couldn’t distinguish if that was poop I saw, or if the grass was just too long.  I saw the woman anxiously looking around, and that’s when it pretty much confirmed my suspicions.  The dog was shitting and she was most certainly not picking it up.  I started walking towards the door and had planned to yell something out.  Originally it was “PICK UP YOUR DOG’S SHIT!” but then I thought that was too harsh, so I was going to go creeper-mode and instead say “I saw that.”  However, I decided against saying anything, for fear that the dog actually was just taking an innocent pee.  Later, when we went on a walk (with poop bag in tow, might I add), I checked the grass and sure enough, a big ol’ pile of doggy doo.  Not cool, not cool at all.  Aside from pet owners leaving dogs in sauna-like hot vehicles, pet owners not being responsible and picking up their dog’s feces is one of my big… pet peeves. (Sorry, super lame pun not intended there but it just happened.)  On the one occasion that I have walked Lily accidentally without a bag, I found something to pick up her crap.  Granted, she is tiny and her poops are as well, I made do.  Luckily most human beings are disgusting, so there was some kind of litter (I believe it was a cup) that I was able to use to scoop up the shit.

So with that, last night was kind of hellish in terms of getting some decent quality sleep, so I’m shuttin’ it down earlier than usual tonight.  A mama’s gotta rest.

Hope you enjoyed the poop stories.  It’s all I’ve got tonight, and for that I apologize… but not really, ’cause I kinda find it funny.  Nighty night y’all.

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Entry filed under: Post-Partum Party, Uncategorized. Tags: , , , , , , , .

June. T-5 Months.

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