So I’m pretty sure that no one actually reads this blog anymore. Unless of course, I write something that pisses off the family. Then the numbers spike.
Perhaps I need more controversy?
Anyway. I was reading a post over at Amalah and it inspired me. Let me tell you, I love her blog, I think I love her children. I want to be friends and drink wine with her. Seriously people, I have cried with joy about her children. who. I. have. never. met. whatever. I totally have friends.
She wrote a post about her husband wigging out over child injury and the aftermath. It reminded me of how I wig out over poop. Yeah. this is a post about poop. Aren’t you all lucky. All two of you.
I went to the public market this weekend with Bridget and while there the baby had a blowout. I picked her up out of the stroller and was all “Eww sweetie, you’re leaking a bit. Let’s change you.” Then I noticed that there were yellow smears all down the arm of my shirt. SQUEE!! I hate this part of parenting.
I looked at Bridget and announced that Brian would be proud that he could clean up Princess Kicky Pants (PKP) with only one, possibly two wipes. I? on the other hand would prefer to use the entire container. If I could coat my hands and arms in them before touching the baby I would. Seriously people. It’s gross!
Bridget laughed at me. And was then slightly horrified to realize that I totally stripped off my shirt in the middle of the street to put on a new one. True, it’s not the best neighborhood. But are people really going to mess with the crazy white lady who is muttering about poop, carrying around a house’s worth of laundry* and stripping** in the street? I don’t think so.
* We had two showings on Saturday and an open house on Sunday so I was driving around the clean laundry that we still haven’t had time to fold and put away.
**I have no shame. It’s true. And I looked around to make sure no one was standing or looking nearby.