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Living with three males means my life revolves around poop. Green poop. Floaters. No wipers. Poop that pokes above the water. Any and all types of poop. Not my own poop, but still… poop.
You’d think with how often I talk about poop I would spend more time on the throne purging my own bowels. Nope. I just wipe butts and change diapers for a living. But not until we leave the hospital.
We have this rule: during our time in the postpartum room, Michael must change all of the poopy diapers until we leave the hospital. You know the ones I am talking about, black, tarry stools requiring nothing short of a chisel to remove from your bundle of joy’s behind.
Which is how we discovered the difference between your first child and the second.
One of our nights in casa de la ripped whoohaas, Michael woke up, like any male fearing the wrath of a woman who just delivered a watermelon, to change Maverick’s diaper. He pooped. No big deal.
Except, when you have 3 years between your kids, you are a little out of practice and forget the tricks of a diaper change. Yanno, like closing the dirty diaper and placing it under their butt until you finish wiping. Just in case.
You see, Maverick is a start, pause, start back up again pooper, but on that evening we were still getting to know each other. We had no clue what was coming next. Until it hit us. One more tiny grunt and the blanket covering his bassinet was a tarry mess. We needed a new blanket.
Little did we know, though, that minutes later he would water what was left of the bassinet, making the blanket the least of our worries because now… now we needed a new bassinet.
I don’t know if it was the exhaustion or the thought that even parents of multiples will get poo-poohed on, but we laughed. Hysterical laughter floated out of our room and, for a minute, we appreciated the late night giggles instead of the tears we experienced with Michael.
Sort of like we knew what we were doing. But not really.
I’m hoping it won’t always be like this because the only grown-up conversation I was planning on having was about the birds and the bees. I wasn’t planning on having the hemorrhoid talk with him before he turned 18 because I very much prefer talking about sharts gone wrong.
I will keep my fingers crossed that he learns a better technique and continue to plow through my trusty stockpile of Huggies Snug & Dry and Little Movers. I’m not loyal to either but I know a lot of moms are. Are you on Team Snug & Dry or Team Little Movers?
On the way home from a steroid treatment, I popped into CVS Health to check out their cane selection and ended up walking out with a tower of diapers. What? The diapers were on sale! You know I can’t resist a good diaper deal!