Poop trumps all

My life is consumed by poop. I don't even realize it until I'm in "gentle company" and see the looks I get as I casually ask Anthony, "Did Hollis poop today? How was it?" As a mother, I am not only in charge of what goes into my little baby's mouth, but also what comes out of his little baby butt, too.

At first, babies don't poop. You get about a four day reprieve when you first have them here while their little guts are working up to their lifelong task then WHAM! - or SPLAT! as the case may be - I know... gross, sorry, but seriously, it's important stuff. Once they start pooping, you want to see it happening several times a day. If they don't, then you need to worry. Imagine a baby that was pooping 5 times a day suddenly going dry for 5 days... you'll be wracking your brain to try to figure out why and looking up all sorts of home remedies to get things going again. You'll learn what "Fleet" means and you'll get over your horror of suppositories. And all because you love your little person so much and want things to work right for him.

Eventually, they get down to once a day and you're no longer astonished at the God awful sounds coming from the diaper region. There's probably solid food involved by now and you're working hard on baby nutrition and journaling what new foods you introduce and watching for adverse side effects. When I first introduced food to Hollis, I did it all wrong (for him, not in general). He got stopped up for days and days and I had to eventually just stop the solids all together, Fleet him up, and restart his guts. Since then things have been humming along just fine... until one of those big baby milestones: Cheerios.

I might as well have put a plug in his butt.

Anyway, I fed him prunes this morning and got that plug to come out this afternoon, only to drop it on the floor. YES. I dropped a turd on the floor. - I can't believe I just wrote that sentence. - So, to all you future parents out there hear me now: babies = poop. Don't be scared, don't be sick, don't be disgusted. Just be prepared for it. I sure as hell wasn't.

I like to horrify my sister about the poop-ness of pregnancy and birth from time to time, too. Yes, poop-obsessing starts then. She gags and turns green around the gills. I love it. I don't know why I find it so funny, but it is. In a world where we are so separated from our bodies the idea of pooping is just so utterly hilarious - and mortifying all at the same time. I'm nervously giggling even now.

I wish I had more to say at the moment, but I don't. I just dropped a turd on the floor and it's all I can think about. Forget that I just had a lovely lunch with some colleagues, saw my mom and Terry, and ate some heavenly dark chocolate with chili pepper (my all time faaaaaavorite kind). The poop trumps all.