Everyone stinks

Well, it had to come up eventually.  The Poo Post.

Now, I should preface this by saying that prior to spawning, FF and I were staunch believers that we wouldn’t fall into the new parent trap of discussing, obsessing, and recounting poo episodes.  This is one of those cliches that is, I’m sorry to report, UNAVOIDABLE.

Cue back to K as a tiny little newborn, about three weeks old.   Uncle J and Aunt D (parents of cousin K2) come over to visit and so we can bask in the glory and joy of having two amazing little girls only 9 days apart!  And literally within the first hour, we sat up, collectively gasped, and realized that we had been conversing very seriously about BABY POO for the last 20 minutes.  Four intelligent, mature, reasonably sane adults….having a serious POO discussion.  Le sigh, as they say in France.

That should have been our tip-off that it was the beginning of the end, but no, we still doggedly believed we were sanitary, non-poo-obsessed parents.  Soon the reality of diaper failures, wipe breakthroughs, shopping trip poo massacres, and the like broke down our will to live.  Oh nevermind, it broke down our will to avoid poo recountings at all costs.  Somehow the phrase “misery loves company” took on a whole new meaning.  When I went back to work, coming home to hear about how many frightening diapers (from 2 girls remember) FF dealt with in a day, somehow kept me connected to the goings-on.  Weird, I know, but true.

Pre-solid-food baby poo is really no big deal.  OK, there is a lot of it when explosions happen but it is nothing compared to toddler poo.  And yes, over time, as a parent, you absolutely become incredibly nonchalant about bodily excretions.  There was the infamous night where K was using my leg as a slide…which opened an unholy gap in her diaper at a very wrong juncture.  There was the miscommunication of epic proportions where K went to tell Daddy “sticky poos, need napkin” but he thought she said “sticky juice, need napkin” and she had managed to bust out while scooting all over the floor playing.  Oh yes, that was a uniquely bad incident.   There was the universally parental infamous “bathtub explosion” where I had no idea such a small body could contain such volume.

Today, the struggle of course is with potty training.  Don’t get me wrong, the kid understands the mechanics and can perform very well but she proves most resilient to all forms of bribery and absolutely hates to be interrupted when focusing on activities, so is trying her best to refuse to be toilet continent.  She just likes the convenience factor.  Now, I’m pretty sure her plan is to skip all the intervening years between toddlerhood and geriatric diapers, and just coast.  So far we have K tantrums: 0 and FF tantrums: 1.  She is most definitely winning.

On the other hand, she seems unnaturally proud of her ability to produce gas.  Yes, I’m serious.  She gets very excited every time she makes an audible emission and points out loudly and happily that “I made gas, from my buns!”.  Yes, this is humiliating, and yes, she has mentioned this at inopportune times.  She of course never fails to say “excuse me” with unadulterated glee.  It’s not so much the nutty-professor-fart-humor as it is truly something to do with genuine pride and excitement that she has this amazing bodily ability. 

Tonight:

FF to CM:  Man that kid stinks again!

K: I don’t stink!

FF: Well, it isn’t me, I never stink!

K: EVERYONE stinks

CM: Hear that Daddy?  EVERYONE stinks!