Poop Mitt OR Duped by the Poop

Poop Mitt OR Duped by the Poop

Does anybody like baseball?  Nah, me neither.  How about poop stories?  Great.  So I’ll keep the sport metaphor brief and the poop story as vivid as possible.

Basically my hand acted as a catcher’s mitt for The Beast’s gigantic curve ball of a poop.

So, The Beast is a prolific pooper. He doesn’t miss a day. Then yesterday, no poop. Husband and I were joking over supper.

Husband: Haha…he’s gonna poop all night for you!

Me: Haha…not if he poops in the tub for you first haha…

We go back to eating our meatloaf.

Fast forward to 5 am. I walk in to tend to The Beast’s woeful cries, and the whole place smells of poop. I go to change him, and nothing! Well a little poop lump but that’s it. I make the decision to 80% clean him up, tuck him in, and come back in ten minutes. You know, give him some privacy to git’er done. He starts to cry his head off. I think…okay, either his belly hurts from 48 hours worth of stored up poop or, he insta-pooped and is angrily sitting in 48 hours worth of stored up poop. Either way, I decide to stay in bed.

He amps up the crying.

So I go in, and the whole place stinks worse than before. I pick him up and apologize. He squeaks and gurgles and starts telling stories. I roll up my sleeves in prep for a poop that could ‘bomb a small country’ as my step mom puts it. I strip him and nothing! Except the 20% poop I left behind from before! I was tricked by my own self! Duped by the poop!

And then…he poops.  He poops the consistency of toothpaste.  An entire family sized tube of toothpaste. No, five family sized tubes. He poops and poops and poops and poops. With no diaper on, I panic and start catching the poop. Being a lefty all I can think is, ‘Oh God, how am I going to explain this to Carol the perky, elderly jewelry lady when I have to take my oh-so-clever puzzle ring to be cleaned?’

Me: Hi, Carol the Perky, Elderly Jewelry Lady, can you please clean the soap and lotion out of my oh-so-clever puzzle ring?

Carol the Perky, Elderly Jewelry Lady: Sure thing!

Me: (whisper voice) And can you clean the feces out from behind the diamond right there?

Carol the Perky, Elderly Jewelry Lady: (talking louder to account for my whisper voice) What dear?

Me: (whisper voice) The feces. Feeee-ceeeees. Feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-CEEEEEEEEEES.

Carol the Slightly Annoyed, Elderly Jewelry Lady: Speak up, dear.  I can’t hear you when you use your whisper voice.


Anyway…back to the actual story.  In a sane moment I think, ‘Why am I trying to catch it? Let it go everywhere and deal with the aftermath.’ But I’m already elbow deep…so…I keep catching poop.

Four diapers later. Four. The initial 80% clean one, two failed attempts to slide diapers under during the shit storm, and the final victory diaper.

The clock strikes 5:48 am.  Good ‘night’ Beast. I love you… Don’t be mad at me, k? Gurgle, gurgle, squeak, sleep.


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