Warning – This is a blog about poo, pooh, poop, crap, shit and any other word you can think of for the brown (well sometimes) stuff that comes out of you and your kid’s arse. If you’re not a parent yet and would like to be one day, I suggest you stop reading now. This is a post for us hard grafters who have seen it and smelt it all and wish we could bleach it from our minds.
I swear before I had kids, I never once, not ONCE had a conversation/gazed at/analysed anyone else’s poo or my own before.
Is this just another thing us parents do that make non-procreators vomit into their G&T?
When The Kid was born I was fanatical about her poo. I read all the books and knew what colour, size and consistency the first one would be. I even fought with The Hub to be the first one to change her nappy. (What an idiot!) Then, like most parents, the realisation hit that this little screaming bundle pooed a hell of a lot more than my books said and before I knew it, it had become one of the major conversation starters in our house.
“So what have you guys been up to today?” The Hub would ask in an encouraging tone, with a false smile plastered on this face.
“Oh, I don’t know.” I’d reply shortly. “I’ve changed her fifteen times in eight hours because she managed to either shit herself, shit while her nappy was off or shit down her leg onto my new sheepskin rug then got it stuck in between her toes. What did you do today?”
After that, he stopped asking.
So of course when The Baby came I was under no illusion that the poo topic would be hanging around, but just didn’t realise how much MORE it would dominate our lives when The Kid decided to potty train.
So here’s ten reasons why I’m so bored of poo and hate it.
- Talking about it….. a lot.
Whether in passing as we are going out or at night when putting them to bed, we can’t help but mention the offspring’s bowel movements. Do I really need to know that The Kid has done two different colour poos before bed? Or that The Baby’s poo looks like Marmite today? Why do you think I’ve decided it’s your turn to do bedtime tonight?? I. Don’t. Want. To. Know.
- Smelling it.
The Kid is now obsessed with smelling her own poo. Not only will she try and smell her own, regardless of where we are, but try and smell ours and yours too if we let her. “Smell my poo mummy! What does it smell like? Tell me!” Um, like something’s crawled up there and died, probably about ten days ago. I now tackle this question with as much grace as I can at bedtime while mumbling curse words under my breath “It smells like poo H. Like it does every night.” Arghhhhh.
- Cleaning it.
The first time I used cotton wool to clean The Kid’s meconium filled bum I bloody almost killed myself. I cursed the midwife for suggesting such a crap idea (come on, cotton wool and boiled water? She must have seen me coming from miles away!) and after picking most of the cotton wool off her backside and still having poo up her arse I grabbed the wipes and did what I should have done in the first place. Just used my common sense.
Now I spend my life either wiping The kid’s arse to complaints of “You’re hurting my poo” or trying to hold down a baby that has mastered the crocodile death roll to a tee. Let’s just say that white sheepskin rug didn’t last long….
- The noise
Not the actual noise (I mean, the varieties on that would be huge) it’s the noise my kids think it makes. Raspberries, lip farts or just the word poo shouted from The Kid’s lips annoys me. And why does she always ask for one at the very minute the shop/room/grandparents go quiet?
- The amount of different types
Who would have thought there were so many? Surely a shit is a shit right? WRONG! And that’s why non-parent people should NOT be reading this. You think you know it all and that it can’t really be that bad! Ha! You just wait….
- Children love touching it.
Why? Just why?
- Even the sign for poo is poignant.
To be fair, the one for diarrhea looks a hell of a lot worse.
- It always happens at a shit time
Day, night, late for pre-school or just as I strapped them into the car. The New Forest sticks out for me…
- It just goes everywhere.
On me, the carpet, The Kid’s nose while she’s trying to smell it (yep that’s real) and between small fingers and toes.
The worst was when The Kid was potty training and she’d forget to go before getting in the bath! Ha! Que a screaming match from both kids, one because there’s floating poo and the other because her sisters crying so why the hell shouldn’t she?! Oh, and don’t get me started on The Baby wanting to use the potty as a hat and my failure to get there in time….
10. You worry about it.
Why hasn’t she had one yet? Did I give her enough fruit today? Will she wake in the night and have one and make me sit with her on the floor holding her hand while she tries to go? Will I be able to change The Baby’s nappy and get her back to sleep quick enough to have half an hour in bed before The Kid wakes up again because she has a tummy ache and needs a poo and can’t go?! Argh!
So if like me, poo just winds you up, then why not be more like The Hub and shout “The Baby has done a shit again” and walk off and pretend to be deaf when the other half shouts for your help because The Kid has shit all over her nose again and is freaking the hell out!