Poop. I’m not the first mommy blogger to write about it. I won’t be the last either. (Am I a mommy blogger? I’d like to think I’m so much more…) If you’ve ever blamed one of your farts on your baby, this post is for you! If you’ve ever been unsure who to blame a fart smell on, you OR your baby, this post is especially for you.
I’m currently in a situation where I have two pooping children. It’s kind of like live and let die. Between Maisy the crop-dusting super baby and Owen bearing down in the shopping cart like a Mr. Universe contestant, it can get really real when we go out to shop. Really, really, really real. I’d venture to say that if you haven’t gagged over your toddlers diaper then… well, I guess you just have a really strong gag reflex. Good for you.
I have a bad habit of waiting to change diapers for too long. This stems from my intense desire to not change two poopy diapers in a row. “Let’s be completely positive that this thing has worked it’s course” Ya know? This working theory has two negative results. 1. The entire floor of a house is allowed to fill up with the refreshing, yet invigorating, smell of poop. 2. My friends hate my guts and just really hate my guts.
I love the level of intimacy my marriage has achieved. We throw around questions like “On a scale of 1-10 how bad was it?” “Was there so much?” “It was fart dust wasn’t it?” Because even if the other is doing the dirty work, we still feel the need to check in. Or when you look up at your spouse while changing a diaper with two baby legs held up in the air and they intuitively know… “She’s pooping right now isn’t she?”
Poop. A romance language.