The day my child ate poop.
I bet you wouldn't believe this given the amount of blogging I've done on the subject of poo lately, but before I had a baby the thought or sight or smell of it set off my gag reflex in an instant. I was in denial about the thousands of diapers that were in my near future and prepared myself for motherhood by convincing myself that I would handle the wet diapers while Rick tackled the dirty ones. I just knew that God was going to bless me with a baby who would wait until his dad got home before he was allowed to go #2. Not too much to ask, right? Ha! Then Harrison arrived and thought he'd do his momma a favor by making her face her fears head-on by giving me quite the crash course in the subject. Thanks, Baby Love.
Anyway, on to the story.
So I recently picked up a box of wheat teething biscuits for H to munch on and was glad to see that he loved them. They make a horrible, gooey, mushy mess, but keep him occupied while I'm trying to clean up after meal time so they are a winner in my book. After he was finished, I wiped all of the nastiness off of his face and hands and then took him to his room to change his filthy clothes and diaper. Now, my son HATES having his diaper changed. Every time I have to wrestle him into submission all the while trying to swap out the diapers and keep his hands off of his goods until I can get the fresh diaper in place. This time I did it in record speed and was pretty proud of myself given the amount of fight he put out. That's when I noticed that I missed some of the wheat biscuit sludge on his face from the earlier wipe-down. No problem, I thought, as I wiped it off of his lips with my finger. No problem, that is, until I quickly realized that my finger was now covered in something brown that wasn't wheat biscuit sludge. He had apparently somehow managed to stick his foot in his dirty diaper without me noticing, and then stuck the same foot in his mouth and happily began chewing on it.
Yeeeeah. Believe me, I know.
Just try to imagine my horror when I realized that my baby had very likely just ingested his own poop. Immediately I a) contemplated calling CPS on myself, because OMG I just let my baby eat his own poop; b) considered bathing us both in a soothing mixture of hand sanitizer and Lysol; and c) smiled and pretended like nothing out of the ordinary happened, especially something as disturbing as my baby eating his own poop. Yep, c) prevailed, at least until I could mentally process the incident without immediately feeling the need to resort back to a) and b). Sometimes denial is the only answer!
Anyway, on to the story.
So I recently picked up a box of wheat teething biscuits for H to munch on and was glad to see that he loved them. They make a horrible, gooey, mushy mess, but keep him occupied while I'm trying to clean up after meal time so they are a winner in my book. After he was finished, I wiped all of the nastiness off of his face and hands and then took him to his room to change his filthy clothes and diaper. Now, my son HATES having his diaper changed. Every time I have to wrestle him into submission all the while trying to swap out the diapers and keep his hands off of his goods until I can get the fresh diaper in place. This time I did it in record speed and was pretty proud of myself given the amount of fight he put out. That's when I noticed that I missed some of the wheat biscuit sludge on his face from the earlier wipe-down. No problem, I thought, as I wiped it off of his lips with my finger. No problem, that is, until I quickly realized that my finger was now covered in something brown that wasn't wheat biscuit sludge. He had apparently somehow managed to stick his foot in his dirty diaper without me noticing, and then stuck the same foot in his mouth and happily began chewing on it.
Yeeeeah. Believe me, I know.
Just try to imagine my horror when I realized that my baby had very likely just ingested his own poop. Immediately I a) contemplated calling CPS on myself, because OMG I just let my baby eat his own poop; b) considered bathing us both in a soothing mixture of hand sanitizer and Lysol; and c) smiled and pretended like nothing out of the ordinary happened, especially something as disturbing as my baby eating his own poop. Yep, c) prevailed, at least until I could mentally process the incident without immediately feeling the need to resort back to a) and b). Sometimes denial is the only answer!
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