This post is about poop. So, if you don’t like stories about poop, if you’re easily grossed out or if you have a weak stomach, you may want to pass on this one.
Or, if you happen to be on a lunch break and have a sandwich in your hand, you may want to come back later.
Consider yourself warned.
Babies poop. Yep. They poop a lot. It’s messy. It’s smelly. It’s gross. And, sometimes it’s explosive. Now, this is not necessarily new information. For centuries new dads have been avoiding poop as much as possible. They miraculously disappear the moment a slight odor permeates the air. They have all of a sudden remembered that the tires need to be rotated on the car, or the lawn needs mowing or (GASP!) the laundry needs doing. Yes, I do believe many men would rather take on the dreaded task of laundry rather than change a poopy diaper. But this post isn’t actually about poop avoidance tactics, although I’m sure you could each share stories of your own. This post is about hubby’s participation in poopy diapers. And yes, I’ll repeat it for those of you who think you misread…. Hubby does, in fact, participate in poopy diapers. And that, my friends, is where the funny comes in.
Our little one has had some gastric issues. He’s on formula that causes constipation… and medicine that, well, let’s say, eases the constipation……. All this being said he can go 48+ hours without having a bowel movement. The poor little guy pushes and pushes for hours and never seems to get anything out. Now, this medication doesn’t just help get things moving, it helps set up scenarios that no parent ever wants to witness much less clean up. Yes, this medication, added to 48 hours of pushing, very often results in poopsplosions, the likes of which you can’t quite appreciate until you’re elbow deep in stinky, smelly poopies. (I warned ya, this post was pushing the poop story limits…………)
I am still on maternity leave. This simply means that I spend all day with our little one. I have had diaper explosions on my lap. I’ve cleaned poop off his legs, back and even out of his hair. I’ve tactically figured out how to remove poop covered garments from over the head with minimal poop transfer. I’ve unsuspectingly picked up our little guy without realizing the poop had escaped his clothes and I’ve had it all over my shirt. Suffice to say, that in 3 short months, I’ve been covered in and cleaned up more poop that I ever imagined possible. And, just like they tell you… somehow it’s ok, when it’s your own baby. Still completely gross…. But somehow ok..
So, now that I’ve set the stage let me tell my story.
One day, hubby is holding the baby and he hears the sound we like to celebrate. Yes, when you have a constipated baby… you DO actually celebrate each and every bowel movement. So, he promptly takes the baby to the changing table to get a new diaper.
I hear him in the other room … “Holy crap…” he declares “I’ve never seen so much poop!”. “Hon” he calls to me “this is an insane amount of poop”. So of course, I go into the room to see. Yes, this is another absurd behavior of parents (one that I couldn’t have quite imagined). You actually share poop stories and even show poop to each other. Ok, maybe this is just us……………….. Anyhow, when I look at the diaper, I simply say to hubby. “That’s nothing!” since I am now a poop expert, I know that this particular diaper filled with poop is not ‘an insane amount of poop’. I’ve seen an ‘insane amount of poop’ – those are the days I’m cleaning it out of the baby’s hair. So, I tell hubby “Honestly babe, that’s nothing.” And, as hubby continues to rant about the amount of clean-up he must do, I watch him as he pulls his three hundredth wipe from the container. “Uhm babe” I say to him “Are ya gonna leave any wipes for the next diaper??” He’s instantly defensive…. “how am I supposed to clean this all up without using this many wipes?” And then, I’m on my way into the other room because obviously we need another trash bag to hold an entire bin of dirty wipes…………..
As I get into the other room I yell to hubby… “Honestly, that wasn’t a lot of poop. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was going to go agai……..” and, as I say this, I hear hubby yelling….”OH MY GOD! He’s going AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!” And, I silently chuckle to myself as I realize that he now fully understands the definition of “an insane amount of poop”.
At this point I realize that hubby might need help… or maybe it’s just my evil side wanting to spectate as hubby tackles this mess. So, I go back into the room where he’s changing the baby. I watch him as he holds the baby’s legs way above his head so he doesn’t lay in the poop that’s now all over the changing table. He’s grabbing handfuls of wipes… he easily must be on wipe #478. He’s cleaning and shifting the baby and then……. I hear sucking. And, as I look at our cute little guy who seems to be contorted like a pretzel, as daddy is elbow deep in dirty wipes and more focused on clean-up than baby. I realize that dad has him bent so far in half that he’s now sucking on his own big toe! “Uhm hon, look at what you’re doing to him! You have him bent so far, his toe is in his mouth!”
And, surrounded by dirty wipes, smelly poop and one heck of a mess, you know what hubby’s response is??? “He’s been wanting to do that since the day he was born. After all this, the least I could do is to help him figure out a way to get his toe into his mouth!”
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Hahahaha, it’s like my husband when the boys poop, he all “come quickly”, “I need this, this, that and the other”, “hold his hands”….. on and on. One day I asked him why he needed so much help changing a poop explosion, how does he think I do it all day when I’m alone? Silence….
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Not Winning Mom…. It is truly amazing how much help they need to do things we do all by ourselves regularly!
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This was absolutely hilarious and brought back so many memories!! I even read it out lout to my husband, and he said I had to tell you his famous story. When our oldest son was a toddler he got the flu and at one point my husband could tell that he was going to throw up. As my son started heaving, my husband cupped his hands under Bryan’s mouth, Bryan threw up, and Mike caught every last drop!! Then he ran to the bathroom and got rid of it without getting any on the carpet. That story has been told more times than you know just as your stories will be. It’s amazing what we will do for our children isn’t it? LOL
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Photosfromtheloonybin ~ I think we can already “out do” you. I thought it might be worthy of a post all it’s own OR quite possibly not post worthy at all since it’s so gross BUT, double poops are apparently all the rage at our house (since the baby seems to like to poop again after you remove his diaper) and hubby, after seeing what a mess the no diaper poop could cause on the changing table, did indeed catch the next double poop in his bare hand!!!! Eeewwwwwwwwww! 🙂
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Isn’t it amazing that two men would think of doing something truly disgusting to avoid a mess. Wow, we have good husbands!! Shhh, don’t let them hear me say that though :).
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I thought I was doing well to avoid poop projectiles – you have to be quick on your feet! We haven’t even come close to a poopsplosion!
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Aaaahhhhhh Ms Devlin. It is still sooooo early for you. Poopsplosions WILL happen, don’t you fret!
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Ah Michelle, I remember the poopsplosions fondly, since they are so far in the past. My hubby, ironically, doesn’t remember ANY except one, and that occurred when my daughter was almost 4 and past diapers!
Picture…. grocery shopping, full cart of groceries already loaded onto the checkout, daughter cheerfully sitting in the front of those stupid “truck” carts, teenage cashier… and hearing, Mommy, I think I have to go potty…and typical mom response…oh sweetie, we just went when we came in. Can you wait a few minutes until I get all the groceries bagged? And hearing in response NOOOOOOO!! (((loud squirt sound))) followed by an even louder (((SPLAT))). Poor kid had explosive diarrhea ALL OVER THE FLOOR. Those stupid truck carts have a wire grate floor, did you know? I didn’t. Ask teenage cashier if she has some paper towels and can she call the janitor to come… and she proceeds to tear off ONE SHEET of paper towel. I said yeah well… I think I’m going to need a little more than that, to which she looks over the register, promptly turns green and runs. (((sigh))) Thankfully her MUCH more experienced (and probably a mother!) manager comes over, calls the janitor, closes the lane, and we get busy. We left the floor for the janitor (a nice older gentleman who was not fazed in the least) and tried to clean Alexis as much as possible. At that age, who thinks to bring extra clothes for an hour trip to the grocery store? And she was wearing a DRESS, so nothing was contained…The manager ran down the kids aisle and grabbed a package of girls underwear and ripped them open, but the dress was still a mess. My solution… and to this day the best part of the story….I grab a yellow plastic bag, rip two small holes in the bottom of the bag, stick her feet/legs through one by one, and pull the bag over her bottom and put her arms through the handles. That’s how I got her home. I still had to pack the car and such… and sadly I made her stand in the parking lot while I loaded the car because ((ahem)) I didn’t want her to sit in it for too long, but in reality… I didn’t want her to stink up the car. (bad mom!). Drove the 7 minute ride home in probably under 2 minutes with all the windows and the sunroof open while holding by breath, grab her out of her carseat under the arms as soon as we get home and run into the house with her dangling from my hands as far away from my body as possible screaming EMERGENCY!!! My husband and a neighbor (childless by choice, and probably more so now) were upstairs and saw me coming, and thinking the poop was blood came charging down the stairs… until they realized what it was and both turned a lovely shade of green. I thankfully had the foresight at that point to turn back around and go outside to the hose, and stripped off everything and hosed her down before bringing her in the house for a bath.
Hubbys contribution was bringing in the groceries (a first, I think). The teenage cashier never returned, and quite honestly I don’t think I ever saw her again.
Alexis is 12.5 and thankfully, has retained no memory of the incident.
((sorry for hijacking your blog, but too funny a story not to share))
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Oh Karyn…. you’re right this was just TOO good a story. The plastic bag solution, both brilliant and freakin hysterical!!! You had me laughing out loud and I had to read your reply to hubby, who also had a great laugh! Thanks a ton for sharing!
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