Since it’s been a day or two without a poo story, I figured we were overdue.
One thing that’s really been mystifying me is the nature of infant poo. I had absolutely no idea but that shit stains (literally). The first time Stella had a blowout (and for you fans of A Christmas Story, every time that happens, I hear the Old Man from the movie hollering in my head “Dagnabbit! Blowout!”), it went coursing down a leg and ended up pooling in one of the legs of her footie suit she was wearing. Not thinking anything of it, I simply tossed it at the foot of the washer to be laundered with the next round of whites. Lo and behold, it left a nice yellow stain. Now I know better, and am vigilant about spot-treating.
Why in the hell would breast-fed infant poo stain?! That is about a bland and colorless a diet as one could ever imagine. The milk is a watery white (sometimes maybe a touch on the pinkish side). There is no FD&C Red No. 40 in there. There isn’t even any saffron or other natural dyes. There are no additives or preservatives. What alchemy occurs in an infant’s digestive tract that would change a white liquid into a vile mustardy-brown semi-solid that even Scotch Guard cannot win against?
The poo is also quite diabolical in that it’s completely random. Just when we had grown accustomed to the baby pooing every 3-4 days, she began going more frequently. For instance, this past weekend she went twice in one day and again in the middle of the night; I found myself quite bleary-eyed and unprepared at 3:00 AM during a diaper change in the near dark when she let fly. Had she been fully-loaded, I would have been in trouble. As it were, she simply squirted at me intermittently for a few moments, giggling, while I pleaded with her to stop doing that.
In other poo news, Will actually had a shot of poo justice the other night. I had finished bathing the baby and handed her off to Daddy to mind while I cooked, packed lunches, and just got us ready to go for work the next day. She was in a clean suit, smelling sweet, and of a good general disposition. As she had just had 3 poos in a 24 hour period the day before, I figured we were more than safe. Will took her into the man room to watch goofy cartoons online while I worked in the kitchen. All of the sudden, he comes streaking out into the living room, hollering at me to please bring a garbage bag to put the baby down on. She had had a blowout (Dagnabbit!), and it had gone up her back and down her leg, the solids filtering through the diaper and suit, leaving the liquid to leach through to Will’s shirt and jeans. I will say this: Daddy was a good sport about it. Rather than running, screaming, to the shower, he toughed it out and changed the diaper himself. He didn’t even change his jeans right away (although he did go shirtless the rest of the night).