I've been reading a lot of blogs lately that deal with potty training preschoolers and/or toddlers. While I must admit I didn't have a lot of problems training my kids to use the toilet there was a time when my son was 6 months old that I became obsessed with what came out of his bottom.
July 6, 2001 (my birthday): Evan hadn't pooped in about a week, which was odd, and I was starting to become concerned. Any poop today? Nope. Well, maybe later. Here, sweet, try some plums. Still not pooping? I hope there's nothing wrong. Is there something wrong? Is this normal? Here, baby, have some oatmeal.
Evan wasn't in pain and he was nursing and eating baby food like always, but nothing (other than pee) was coming out. That afternoon there was an ice cream social at my husband's office so I packed up the baby and headed out. 15 minutes later Evan was happily ensconced in the baby bjorn and I was happily attacking an ice cream sundae when I felt something liquid run down my leg. I thought, "Oh, great. The diaper's leaking." I reached down for the diaper bag when I noticed it wasn't pee on my shorts and legs, but poop. Frantic, I got my husband's attention and tried to make my way out of the now-crowded conference room. "Excuse me, pardon me, I need to get through, please" didn't work at all. However, screaming "Exploding diaper!" parted the crowd like Moses parted the red sea.
In the bathroom, I handed a giggling Evan over to his dad and laid out the changing pad on the floor (of course there's no diaper changing station at a video game studio). Frank pulled his t-shirt over his nose so he wouldn't gag (it didn't work). The diaper had indeed exploded and Evan was completely covered in a week's worth of baby poo. "Oh, my God! It's like liquid Satan!" exclaimed Frank between coughs as he undressed our son. "How could one little baby make so much shit that smells so evil?" I looked like I had been mud wrestling. I washed off as best I could in the bathroom's sink and we did the same with Evan, who thought that was great fun. I think we went through a metric ton of baby wipes. But at least he had an extra change of clothes. The baby bjorn got stuffed in a grocery sack I kept in the diaper bag for dirty clothes.
I sat on a garbage bag in the car on the way home. What a birthday.
July 6, 2001 (my birthday): Evan hadn't pooped in about a week, which was odd, and I was starting to become concerned. Any poop today? Nope. Well, maybe later. Here, sweet, try some plums. Still not pooping? I hope there's nothing wrong. Is there something wrong? Is this normal? Here, baby, have some oatmeal.
Evan wasn't in pain and he was nursing and eating baby food like always, but nothing (other than pee) was coming out. That afternoon there was an ice cream social at my husband's office so I packed up the baby and headed out. 15 minutes later Evan was happily ensconced in the baby bjorn and I was happily attacking an ice cream sundae when I felt something liquid run down my leg. I thought, "Oh, great. The diaper's leaking." I reached down for the diaper bag when I noticed it wasn't pee on my shorts and legs, but poop. Frantic, I got my husband's attention and tried to make my way out of the now-crowded conference room. "Excuse me, pardon me, I need to get through, please" didn't work at all. However, screaming "Exploding diaper!" parted the crowd like Moses parted the red sea.
In the bathroom, I handed a giggling Evan over to his dad and laid out the changing pad on the floor (of course there's no diaper changing station at a video game studio). Frank pulled his t-shirt over his nose so he wouldn't gag (it didn't work). The diaper had indeed exploded and Evan was completely covered in a week's worth of baby poo. "Oh, my God! It's like liquid Satan!" exclaimed Frank between coughs as he undressed our son. "How could one little baby make so much shit that smells so evil?" I looked like I had been mud wrestling. I washed off as best I could in the bathroom's sink and we did the same with Evan, who thought that was great fun. I think we went through a metric ton of baby wipes. But at least he had an extra change of clothes. The baby bjorn got stuffed in a grocery sack I kept in the diaper bag for dirty clothes.
I sat on a garbage bag in the car on the way home. What a birthday.
1 comment:
My daughter threw up on me at her first Illini football game. Of course I had fresh clothes for her, but not for me. The fans sitting around us said to go to the souvenir shop and buy new shorts and a shirt, but at that point I just wanted to go home!
And the baby peed on me at the playground when I was changing his diaper the other day. Good thing it was on the way out and not right when we got there. My jeans were soaked! Again, he had fresh clothes, but not me.
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