Hot Buttered Poop.

As promised, this post will be about the subject that consumes most of my waking thoughts - the size, smell, and texture of Eliot's poop. Enchanting, isn't it?

I can't say that I didn't enjoy a little toilet humor pre-baby. I did. But having a baby takes these conversations from a beer-in-a-can fueled barbeque type environment right into everyday polite conversation. Justin and I have talked about baby poop while eating. That would be completely gross and inappropriate under other circumstances. But when it is your baby, well, you talk about a lot of things you normally wouldn't - rashes, snot, vomiting (see previous post), ear wax, foreskins, nipples - leaking and otherwise, etc. And I find it all fascinating.

I just had to stop writing this post to change a poopy diaper. No joke. Thank you for your patience.

I have to say, Justin is a real champ when it comes to changing these stink bombs. It wasn't so much of a big deal when Eliot was exclusively breastfed. When he was a newborn, we thought his poop was kind of caramel-y smelling. Nearly pleasant. Not so much anymore. Now that bananas, pears, and sweet potatoes have been introduced to his palette, we are dealing with an entirely different situation. The first time we opened a 'solid foods' diaper, we were both in utter shock. It was like a large strange man entered our home without our knowledge, took off E's diaper, took the dump of a lifetime in it, and put it back on him. What I'm saying is, this is man poop. It's unfathomable that a baby, our baby, could produce such horrors.

Justin has decided that this new stink is so unbearable due to it's 'butteriness'. Now, when I think of 'buttery' smells I think of popcorn, toast, gooey butter cakes, etc. Yum, right? But for Justin, this 'butteriness' must be the spread on a steaming pile of garbage. I don't see it. Or smell it. That's probably good, as if I did, I don't know that I could ever enjoy anything ever containing butter ever ever again.

I won't even get started on the nightmare that is these man-like baby poops in a cloth diaper; you don't even want to know.


Don't worry Mommy, it's just number one.

Beware the Barfs.

Just for the record, my original post title was going to be about poop, but in order to stay current, it was changed to reflect the news of the day.

So Eliot barfed for the first time today. A bunch.

He seemed perfectly fine. Even while he was projectile vomiting over my shoulder. It just poured out of him and onto my grandparent's kitchen floor. It nearly hit the dog. I was sort of in shock, I think I kept saying "He's sick, he's sick..." and watched helplessly as the fountain of breast milk and possibly bananas flowed out of my child. Afterward, he smiled and was very alert and responsive, very much unlike my demeanor anytime I've puked my guts out in front of an audience. I thought surely this must be a fluke thing and he's just fine.

Then he puked in the car. Twice. It was mostly horrible because I watched it happen in our baby mirror thing that is attached to his seat's headrest. I heard this coughing, you know the sound, and then he made that 'rolf, rolf' noise and then the chunks started blowing. Well, it wasn't so chunky. It definitely wasn't as much as the first time, but I knew we were not dealing with a weird one-time reaction.

When we got home he had a few more bouts; one involved a bit of dry-heaving. As I held him over the sink and we watched his little tummy roll, I really felt like crying. I felt so helpless, and then he looked at us with this look of "What's happening? Why is this happening?" Heartbreaking.

Afterward I peeled off all of his clothes and called the nurse's exchange. There is something 'going around' as they say, and the nurse wanted to know "Does he have diarrhea yet?" Yet? "And does anyone else have it yet?" Again - yet? The nurse instructed me in how to keep him hydrated and I dutifully followed her directions. The whole time I was on the phone, he was talking and grabbing his feet and being his normal cute self. We settled into bed for some off and on and off and on nursing, and had a long barf-free nap together.

Meanwhile, Justin and I kept saying, "I think my stomach hurts, but I don't know if I'm sick or just nervous/hungry/anxious/delusional." Thoughts of the two of us fighting over the toilet while both covered in our child's throw-up raced through my mind. My super-mom cousin Emily gave me her no fail baby plague advice - excessive hand washing and frequent Listerine swishing. Hey, it kills germs that live in your mouth.

So, as of this hour, it appears that my child's super-boosted-by-my-breast-milk immune system has fought this off, as he hasn't barfed (or explosively pooped as feared) for almost 8 hours. Either that or he really wasn't sick, and it was a fluke. He enjoyed his evening naked time with as much enthusiasm as usual, and he even rolled over (back to tummy!) for the second time today. His Grandmother came over and he happily played in her lap while we ate dinner. I'm really hoping that he is okay, and that tonight doesn't hold a bed full of regurgitated boobie juice. Please send us vibes of full gurgitation.


Don't worry, that's just drool.