My son poops a lot. This is not exactly a new revelation since he is, in fact, a toddler. And what goes in for most of the day, must indeed come out.
It's not so much the stinky poop stuck to his little white ass like one of those deranged stickers that won't come off. I mean, I survive my own pregnancy induced (I swear) stink bombs on a daily basis. A little bit of poop doesn't scare this pooperologist.
I do indeed know who #2 works for. And it most certainly is not me.
But the knock-down-drag-'em-screaming changing that ensues once I actually get his diaper off leaves me ragged. Do it four to five times a day and I'm ready to run screaming for the hills or at least a place where there are no wiggling, screeching, diaper hating babies to torment me.
When I attempt to break up the lengthy diaper changing gauntlet, say by playing the "I'm letting his butt air out" card, he shits on the floor. And the carpet. In the exact spot that I decide to step in. With my bare foot.
So, when the babysitter came to relieve me of my motherly duties for a beautiful two hours, I wasn't necessarily looking forward to wandering around Kohls trying to figure out how the hell Daisy Fuentes has a jewelry line or how Vera Wang's spring line looks scarily like a set of my grandmother's curtains looking particularly spiffy in my inside-out shirt (nice touch, eh?).
I was looking forward to getting out of at least one mid-day poop changes.
I know that sounds ridiculously desperate, considering my husband does his fair share of pooper changes (not without a little bit of complaining and a lot of begging for help). But it sure is nice to "de-mommy" for a few hours.
However, as luck would have it, I returned home only mildly de-mommied with an empty Taco Bell bag, two almost identical shades of lipstick (why, I do not know), and a large bag of butt wipes to a not-so-napped son who had not-so-pooped.
Nada. None. Nothing.
That was until the babysitter had just pulled out of our driveway. And then the gates of poopy hell burst wide open, sort of like a welcome home gift, you know, just in case I forgot who I was for those brief moments away from home.
There are some things a girlfriend will only tell you about having kids, like "kids poop a lot and it kind of sucks" or "make sure you check to see that your shirt is on the right way before you leave the house" Check out our blog blast in conjunction with Discovery Channel's sweet new show "Deliver Me," write your own post about what you wish your girlfriends had told you about having babies (or what they did that saved your ass), and win some prizes!