The Poo Chronicles

How can I let the months slip by without writing about…poo? Truly, the topic was a motivation for starting the blog in the first place because I feared becoming the obnoxious facebooker constantly posting about the latest ass-plosion (phrase adoringly coined by Graham Vail).

First off, let me just say, we paid good money for that 8 hour “Baby Care Essentials” class where they spent an hour on the topic of diaper changing and never did they warn that our adorable baby girl could have the capability of shooting poop across a room–yep that’s a foreshadow.  Some of our most hysterical moments over the last 5 months revolved around poo.  So, thank you for humoring me as I recall our favorite stories of Alaire’s “BMs” (as they say at daycare).  I’ll remind you, this post ain’t for no yellow-bellies…proceed with caution.

-Alaire’s first three weeks were poopy ones.  It took no time to discover that you better be quick at the changing table.  In fact, diaper changing felt like a scene in an old western when the cowboys took their paces for a shoot-out.  New diaper, wipes and powder ready.  Deep breath before unfastening the dirty scoundrel of a diaper. GO! If this WAS a scene in an old western, Graham and I would be the sorry suckers with the bullet about 1 out of 3 times because WOW could that little behind ambush us with poo.  On one particular day, I was changing her diaper and as I raised her legs for a clean she shot poo with the splatter of a shot-gun.  She hit the wall, the window and me… GRAHAM, I shriek!  He runs to fill the bath, I scoop up Alaire and rush her to the bathroom.  You might think this story is over, but you’d be a fool because the girl rides again.  As Graham bathes our sweet  little girl and I clean the walls, the window and me.  I hear Graham shriek, AHHHHHH!  She just pooped in her bath!

-When Alaire was about 5 weeks, we took our first overnight trip to see my grandparents and Aunt Cathy (FA) & Uncle Greg (UG) in Eugene.  On the way out of town, I met up with my mom, grandma Sally & Hank for lunch at the Olive Garden.  Just as I got to the car I heard the ass-plosion.  I pulled her diaper bag to the back of the SUV and began her diaper change. Here’s one of those times when I would have been the sorry sucker with the bullet.  After cleaning her up and prepping a new diaper, she started peeing!  With the slippery plastic changing mat, pee rolled all the way her back and soaked her clothes.  I stripped her naked to give her a wet-wipe bath and then the plastic bag for the poo diaper started flying away.  The Portlander in me couldn’t possibly imagine littering, so before I knew it I was chasing a purple plastic bag through the Olive Garden parking lot with a naked baby in my arms.  Seeing my mom and Grandma chatting at their cars, I screamed, HELP!!!!  I scooped up the plastic bag, rushed back to the car and laid Alaire back on her changing mat.  What is this?  There was bark and dirt all over my little baby, thanks to the plastic bag landing in the flowerbed.  Could this moment get any more ridiculous?! Thankfully, the drama ended there…

-If Alaire’s first three weeks were poopy, the next few weeks we waited on vigil for days at a time for the “BIG ONE.”  Apparently a normal phenomenon, breast-fed babies can go several days between BMs, making for an explosive and giant diaper.  Oh God! All hands on deck!  One night, after a few slow poo days Graham and I slumbered hard (oh precious precious sleep) until suddenly we both woke with a start to a most frightening noise! Did a dirty old trucker break into our house to use the bathroom?  No, it’s just our sweet, slumbering, adorable baby girl with talents we never imagined!

-If you follow our blog, you know that we spent Tuesdays during maternity leave in Salem with my parents.  On one of the last of our spoiled summer Tuesday adventures, Grandpa Don was holding Miss Alaire in his chair.  With the new ability  of holding her head up high, like a big person, she stood on Grandpa’s lap.  Suddenly, my sweet little girl gave a gleeful smile then proceeded to squat, letting a “Big One” rip. GASPS from Don, Mom and myself!  Will I ever stop being surprised by my daughter’s poopful talents?

-Speaking of the “BIG ONE,” most hilarious is our dog Kenzie’s reaction to Alaire’s house-shaking ass-plosions.  As you have read, they can be quite surprising…and apparently frightening to the canine population.  When a “BIG ONE” hits, our poor dog BOLTS from the room, and I mean that dog can’t get away from Alaire fast enough!  Is it fright, shame, embarrassment or simply, don’t blame it on me, that runs through Kenzie’s head? If I were a lavishly rich women, I might be tempted to hire a Pet Psychiatrist to get to the bottom (no pun intended) of this mystery.

And, that’s the Poo Chronicles Folks!

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