this is a post about poop

Poop used to be funny.

Before children, Cort and I made constant poop jokes.

We even have a fake turd we pass back and forth.

But after this morning, I am officially waving the white flag in the direction of the brown stinky.

Yes, Poop, this is my surrender…

I apologize for giggling about you for all those years.

I am sorry for calling you Big Ones and Pooper Dupers and Buckies.

Forgive me for laughing so hard at the smell you emit that tears run down my face.

I will never again refer to something as tasting or smelling like “poop” or “sh*t”.

No, this morning you got your revenge.

I should have know you meant business (no pun intended) when you exploded out of Eddie all over the bathtub.

While I recognized we were lucky, I clearly tempted the poop gods by still giggling about turds.

It’s really hard not to though, when it seems that you can’t have a family dinner without discussing at least one of the children’s poop frequencies and/or poop consistency.

We have to laugh or we would gag.  Don’t you get that?

First it was whether or not Eddie’s were too hard or too loose or too infrequent or too frequent.

Now we have added infant poop to that discussion.

People without kids or who haven’t had little kids in a really long time look at us as if we have lost our minds.

In the same minute that we have been discussing the unseasonably warm Michigan weather, suddenly Cort and I are talking about what Charlie’s poop looks like.

And we don’t flinch.

It’s just family news to us.

(It’s yellow and seedy  most of the time, in case you want to know.  But getting exceedingly stinky.  Thank you, formula).

But apparently we have been joking around too much because this morning, you decided to get your revenge on me.

I changed no fewer than four HUGELY full, past capacity, VERY near blow out, ungodly stinky baby diapers in less than four hours.

I found yellow smears of poo on my arms, fingers and clothing.

And the whole time the baby scream-cried.

And kicked those little bird legs of his.

And put his little bird feet in the poop.

And kicked it onto me and his changing mat and his other leg.

Yes, Poop, you are winning today.

By a landslide (again, no pun intended).

But tomorrow I will regain control.  I will kick your booty, Poop.

Otherwise all of Sluiter Nation is going to start to smell very, VERY bad.

the day the poop hit sluiter nation

I am lucky.

WE are lucky.

Since Eddie was born in 2009, we have had maybe five memorable blowouts. The one where I thought he didn’t poop at all only to find it all in the foot of his jammies sticks out in my mind here.

(WARNING:  if you have a weak stomach when it comes to poo, now would be the time to pass on this post.  Don’t say I didn’t warn you. )

But this fall I encountered something so gruesome it’s taken me over a month to be able to write about it.

As you may know, Cort is taking classes this semester.  That means he is gone on Thursday nights from dinner time until after Eddie and I are both in bed.

One of the first Thursday nights that Cort was gone, and after Eddie and I had dinner, I decided that the boy needed a bath before bed.

I was still in my first trimester.  This is important because I was still nauseous all the time.

Eddie’s latest rave was to have a “bubbles bath,” so, because he had been extra good for me at dinner, I loaded up the bubbles into the tub.

While he soaked and played, I walked from his room to the kitchen (which means I walked past the bathroom door) a thousand times getting his diapers and extra clothes ready to go to his new daycare.

The whole time he chatted with me as I walked past and I kept saying, “wow.  yup.  mmmhmmm.  row row the boat!  good!”

Finally, I walked into the bathroom to wash his hair and scrub him up.

I turned on the water to fill up the tub cup (I didn’t want to wash his hair with the bubbley water in case it would sting his eyes).

Then I shampooed up his curls and put a soapy faux-hawk in his hair, which we both giggled about.

Now mind you, there were still so many bubbles in the tub, I could hardly see his toys that were in there.

So I scoop up some water to rinse his shampoo out and I notice something.

The water is sort of murky under the bubbles.

What the….?  Why is ALL the water brown?  Wait…what are these solids?

OH. MY….

All of a sudden I drop the cup and I look at my shampooed, bubbly little boy and ask, “Eddie?  Did you go poop in the tub?”

His smile fades.

“Yes, momma.”

And I turn to the toilet and vomit.

When I look back he has a terrified look on his face and I realize he thinks he did something very bad.  Which he did…but he really didn’t.

So I started to think.  I needed to get my child out of the semi-liquid poop tub that he had been playing in.

He was too big for any sink.

Wait!  We finished the bathroom downstairs!  We would go down there!

So I calmly told him he need to get out and we would finish the bath downstairs.  That it would be fun!  A new adventure!  We would put bubbles down there too!

I lifted him out, bubbles clingy to his bootycakes and shampoo faux-hawk still in his hair, and set him on the rug.

I grabbed the bottle of bubbles and I held his hand as he very nudely walked down the hall, down the stairs to the landing, down the rest of the stairs, and into our new bathroom.

I asked if he wanted to put the bubbles in and that made him happy, so he dumped the new bubbles in the tub.

After I set him in, I dashed upstairs to grab a few toys, a clean cup to rinse his hair, and a towel.  I also held my breath, looked away, and stuck my hand in the poop water to let it drain.

And decided to close the door and let Cort deal with it when he got home.

Eddie’s downstairs bath didn’t last long.

After we got him washed up, he asked to get out.

I didn’t blame him.

I did text Cort to warn him of the poop-splosion in the upstairs bathroom.

He took care of it when he got home without even a gag.

And Eddie hasn’t pooped in the tub since.  In fact, he announces now that the tub is not where we poop.

At least I know he’s paying attention.

Secret Mommy-hood Confession Saturday

My child is determined to make me look like an idiot.

It all started when he was quite wee.

He would cry and scream and carry on in his colicky way.  I would cry and scream and pull my hair out.

And then we would go out in public or to one of our friend’s houses or to see our family.

And the boy would sleep or coo the entire time.  People would pass his little burrito-ed self around and sniff his head and tickle his toes and he would be the most content thing you ever met.

Everyone would say, “I don’t know what you are talking about!  He is always so GOOD!”

I was sure this was coincidence.  I mean, and infant cannot have a diabolical scheme against his parents, right?

The boy grew and changed. This is when the tantrums and the meltdowns started.   We would say, “no no, Eddie” and he would fling himself to the floor or hit the chair or the cat or us and scream.  Oh did he scream.

We go out?  And he is all smiles and dancing and wonderful.  He is a different child.

This is when I started giving him the side-eye.  I was pretty sure he had an agenda to make the world believe this his parents?  Were lying imbeciles who just liked to complain about how hard parenting is.

This week, he convinced me of his plotting.

Let me preface this by saying last week he hurt his ankle (or foot…hard to tell with a 20 month old) by falling over a friend (yes, he is as graceful as his mother).  It bothered him for less than 24 hours.  The weekend was totally fine.

Tuesday night?  Things got NOT FINE very fast.

All night long Eddie was up clutching his foot (or ankle, who knows).  Every 30-45 minutes he would SCREAM out from his bed, and we would find him holding his foot or waving it in the air at us.

This was a long night.

Somewhere around 4am, I asked Cort if he wanted me to take Eddie to the doctor that day.  I knew he couldn’t take our little man; Wednesday was his first day of his new job.  They tend to frown on people taking off their first day.

We agreed that I should stay home.  This was obviously painful to him and his little foot was warm and a bit swollen.

So I groggily put in for a sub and typed up some last minute lesson plans.

Fast-forward to our appointment later that morning.

Not only does Eddie totally walk into the appointment all cheery (like he really got more sleep than I did?  no.), but he dances…DANCES…around the exam room with the toys.

At this point I feel like his doctor is going to shoo us away with a nice pat on the head for the crazy worried mommy, but no.  She thinks that to be safe, he should have an X-ray done.

So I get Eddie’s socks and shoes back on, we check out at the pediatrician’s office, and head downstairs to take the corridor to the hospital to get the X-rays.

And yes, Eddie runs through the corridor like a crazy person because there is so much space.

I struggle to keep him somewhat not annoying to others in the lobby, then fight with him to stay on my lap in the little check-in room, and then finally let him play with the toys while we wait for the X-ray tech to call us back.

When the tech finally comes for us, Eddie is clearly done with this trip.  He does NOT want to leave the toys.

Enter: meltdown.

I calmly hold his hand and drag guide him to where we need to go.

And of course, the X-ray tech says, “hey, I thought he couldn’t walk on it.”

Yeah, thanks.  That was when he originally hurt it.  Now?  Apparently he is ready for Cabaret.

So they do the X-rays, we get back home, have our lunch and both take naps.

My nap is interrupted by a phone call from the pediatrician’s office.

“X-rays came back normal.  No fractures.”

Just like I figured.  He probably pulled something that was throbbing a bit in the night.  But he is fine now.

And while this conversation is going on?  My students are treating my sub like crap, my monitor at work dies, and my son?

He is sleeping and dreaming of his next plot to make me look like a lying crazy lady.

Click to vote every 24 hours for Sluiter Nation to win the Mom Central grant!

And don’t forget to shop my Thirty-One party! Ends this week! (go to “my events” and shop my party–Katie Sluiter).


Getting Pooped On

I am going to let you in on something Sluiter Nation has been doing for three years now.  It’s a little game Cortney and I made up that relieves stress and brings on a serious case of the giggles just when we need it.

It has to do with poop.

That, my friends, is a fake turd I picked up when I was helping a friend shop at a novelty shop.  She needed dorky award thingys for her seniors.  I didn’t need anything.  But I found the fake yucky stuff section and this little poo needed to come home with me.

Of course I didn’t tell Cortney I bought it.  I just put it on his pillow (like the dramatization shot above), and then quietly went about my evening routine.  As I was brushing my teeth, he walked into our room to get his pj’s on.  That is when I heard, “Aw man, LOUIS!!!  GROSS!”  He totally thought the cat did it!

That’s when he saw me falling over myself (and my toothbrush) in the doorway to our room.  I managed to gasp out that it was fake.

He vowed to get me back.

And that is how the poop game began.

Once in his possession, he had free reign of hiding it anywhere that I would find it.

When it is found?  The rule is you have to say, “Aw, who pooped on my ______”.

The poop has been in my bathing suit, in the bread, in coffee cups, in lunch boxes, on Eddie’s changing table, in the coffee maker, in my water bottle, in Cort’s laptop bag…it is really quite endless.

And of course, once found, the poop changes hands and the poop placer now waits to become the poop victim.

Cort and I have had a lot of figurative poop happen in our lives over the five and a half years that we have been married.  We honestly try to keep a positive attitude and realize that it can’t be forever.

But in the meantime?  We laugh.  And if we need fake poop to laugh?  So be it.

Ok so maybe that last picture was too far.  But you get what I’m saying.  Laugh or cry.  We choose laugh.

By the way, if you are loving the Top Ten Tuesdays, this week will be Top Ten vacation memories!  Write it up and come back and link up on Tuesday!

What Happens When I Poll the Audience….

Today I didn’t know if I should tell you about all the poop that is flying around our house lately or do my flip-offs.

So i polled the audience.  And by audience, I mean twitter.  Because there is instant gratification in polling twitter.

Anyway.

You all voted and you wanted…..

That’s right…it’s been a couple weeks, but the flip-offs are back by popular demand.  The topic of poop?  It is still coming…just maybe another day.

Ok…so here we go… (cracks knuckles)…

First I am TOTALLY flipping off the moron in the red buick something or other in my neighborhood that I get stuck behind in the morning if leave the house at just the “right” (re: WRONG) time in the morning. 

Let me explain.  We live in one of those windy subdivisions that doesn’t have any stop signs (because there is SO not enough traffic to justify stop signs) until you get to the only entrance/exit which is on a main road.

Red Buick?  He feels the need to make a COMPLETE stop at each and every intersection.  He then proceeds to go no faster than 15 mph throughout entire said windy subdivision.

Now I get that it’s important to be cautious.  You don’t want to hit any kids walking to the bus stop.

But at 6:30am?  There are no kids walking to the bus stop yet.  I know this because on days when I am running late?  Like 7:00am late?  THAT is when the kids are walking to the bus stop.

So on these days when I think I am being all on time and early (re: OUT OF CHARACTER FOR ME), Red Buick ruins it for me.

FLIP OFF to you, Red Buick (in fact, I DID flip him/her off this morning…but he/she was too focused on not going over 15, that I don’t think he/she noticed.  So it didn’t count.  So I had to do it here.  So there.)

Ok secondly?  I need to flip off one of our banks.

I am not going to say WHICH bank this is because we do get good service here and the tellers are stellar (you love it.  don’t pretend you don’t).

But this bank?  Has called our house eight times since last Friday.  Our home phone is on the fritz (a WHOLE other flip off), and so we let it go to voicemail and then call our callers back with our cells.

Bur the bank?  Is not leaving messages.

Eight times.  EIGHT MOTHER LOVING TIMES.

three of those times were in ONE DAY.
 
So finally Cort called the number that came up on our caller id (after the fifth time they hung up, mind you).  and apparently this is their marketing department trying to let us know about a good mortgage rate.

Wait.  What?

We JUST refinanced last year at this time.  What the ham sandwich, batman?

So Cort tells them, “um, you need to put us on the do not call list.”

And the lady is all “well, you have to call customer service to request that, and it can take up to 30 days.”

sigh.

So after this conversation?  Three more times they call.  Three.

For a total of EIGHT TIMES.

Bank?  FLIP OFF!

And finally…

I need to go ahead and flip off the cat and his choice of pooping locations.  There will be more of this shared in the upcoming and much anticipated “Poop Post”, but let’s just say my old ass cat is getting all sorts of mean-spirited and poop crazy.  and bad, awful things have happened because of this.

So I flip off the cat poop…and the toothbrush that was thrown out because of it.

Oh…and I know I said “finally” above, but I need to add this…

PPD has a PERMANENT flip-off here in Sluiter Nation, you all know that.  But what you don’t know is that I am all guest posty over at Rocky Mountain Mama’s today for her PPD Awareness Week.  I’m talking about the differences between Baby Blues (which are normal) and PPD.  So go check me out and leave me a comment over there so I don’t feel all lonely.  I hate feeling lonely. Especially on a Friday.

So click this picture and read the post.
Rocky Mountain Mama
and then read the rest of the posts.  They are pretty amazing.
Oh, and for more flip-offs?  You can visit…um…I don’t even know.  Kludgy Mom is the brainchild of the Flip-offs, so go say hi to her.  She has been occupied as of late, so Momma Kiss had the link up.  So just go to both.  They are awesome.  Trust me.
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