didn’t think you would get two posts from me today. Thanks to Beau’s uncontrollable
bowels you now get this post, here is what is happening today at my house,
right now, as I type… oh God I can’t believe this is my life.
in the bath tub, they were long overdue and starting to get a little bit rank. We
can just add bath schedules to the list of things the new baby has “disrupted”.
Anyway, Beau decided he wanted to go potty. I helped him out of the tub and he
sat on the little training toilet for FOREVER. I was hoping that maybe this
time he would actually leave something behind, but no. After that he was back
in the tub, out of the tub, back on the potty, off the potty… whatever. Conner
decides he is gonna stay in the tub and chill for a bit. Beau decides he is
going to run through the apartment naked doing fun things like touching
everyone’s stuff with is wiener. I grab a diaper and stop to check a text, Beau
is scrambling to hide trying to avoid the diaper. I finally corner him, grab
him round the belly and flip him over to strap that Huggy to his tiny tush.
notice something smeared across my arm and shorts. I start hoping that maybe it
is banana from breakfast, banana will whole corn kernels smeared in and I just
haven’t noticed it all morning. I give it a quick sniff and immediately realize
it is in fact poop. Poop on my arm, poop on my shorts, and a tiny streak on the
carpet. I look around and realize there is not a large pile of fresh poop
anywhere I can see. I panic and run into the bathroom yelling “Beau pooped and
I don’t know where! Is there poop in the water?!” I have never seen Conner exit
a bathtub so quickly. There’s no poop in the bath, but the scare has ruined
playtime for him. I run frantically from room to room kicking over dirty
laundry and lifting toys, desperately searching for the hidden turd. I’m trying
to remember all the things Beau had been rubbing his parts on just moments
before. I find nothing.
I still can’t find the poop. The optimistic side of me is hoping I caught the
tail end of a nasty shart. The realistic side of me knows I’ll find it
somewhere someday. Maybe when I pick up some towels while doing laundry later,
maybe in a week when I put on my favorite pair of shoes. All I know is that
there is poop somewhere in my house, right now, as I type this.