Thursday, September 4, 2008

Why we talk about poo






New parents go out on their first date since the birth of their baby. The food is delicious, the wine is perfectly paired, the service is flawless. It has been months since these two got a chance to connect with one another sans baby. They are quiet at first, as if they have forgotten how to talk to one another. They study their menus intently. They order. They talk about work briefly. They comment on what the couple next to them ordered. More silence. The woman brings up the baby. They spend the rest of their evening discussing, in great detail, their baby's shit. Or so the cliche goes...


Shawn and I had our first date since Violet's birth on Sunday and we made a rule that we wouldn't talk about her. We mainly stuck to it (she came up in regard to other topics, i.e. "We should definitely go to that concert, who will we get to watch Violet?") and managed to carry on a pretty adult conversation. Don't give us too much credit, though. We'd spent most of the previous 24 hours discussing Violet's first real blowout.

Blowout. I had heard this term umpteen times regarding babies and even used it (prematurely, as it turns out) to describe some of Violet's previous diaper breaches. A little poo would squirt out the leg hole staining her onesie and my shirt. Must be a blowout. No. It wasn't.


Blowout got it's name for a reason. If diapers could be ripped or torn, this would be the movement to do it. Luckily for me, Violet's blowout didn't occur on me. She was in Shawn's capable hands when the blessed event occurred. I could go to great lengths about the amount of poop, where it landed, how we handled it, and list every crappy last detail. I could tell you that this kind of event is not cleaned up with just a diaper change and some baby wipes; it requires a bath. But this is the thing--if you are a parent, it has already happened to you. If you're not a parent, you think the whole discussion is disgusting and cliche. And it is. Until you are shat upon, it is.

Let me just say this, it doesn't matter in what context you get pooped on, it is still news. If you are on a bus, and you get pooped on, you'll tell someone about it. If you are a nurse and you get pooped on at work, you'll bring it up to co-workers. If you are a parent and you get pooped on, you will want to share your experience. Just because you have a baby, you don't expect to be pooped on. I know Shawn didn't wake up last Saturday thinking, "Today could quite possibly be P-Day." So, if you don't have kids, sorry, maybe someday you'll see.

Anyway, these pictures are poopy and post-bath.








2 comments:

Monique said...

Hilarious! I love the one of your husband and Violet hanging out over the kitchen sink. I am still waiting for Gianna's papa to get lucky like that. ;) Oh, and poop is a fascinating convo topic even when it's NOT happening. Gi was constipated for a few days and I couldn't help blogging about it. LOL.

Aubs said...

Ohh, I just spit half my morning coffee onto my laptop. Hilarious! Love the post pictures too. Those eyes can melt your heart!