There are not words to express how greatly I DETEST poop. Yes, folks. I hate it. All of it, from any form of creature. At one point in life I had so desperately desired sweet little girls with ribbons and bows who played tea parties and dress up. The complete opposite of all things dirty and boy.
The good Lord, in what must be a great form of amusement to Him, as He watches from above, gave me two boys. The oldest of whom is at the age where any and all things involving poop is not only funny but worthy of mention, laughing at, and speaking about. Mind you, the speaking about is ALWAYS at the most inappropriate times. The youngest of these said boys is, what I believe to be, the MASTER of poopy explosions. Doesn't matter the diaper, size, shape, food intake, body positioning or any thing I do to try to minimize damage control, it is always a disaster and always results in a change of clothing for one or both of us. Folks, it is just not pretty.
This morning as I was packing the diaper bag, again, I was mentally preparing myself for a diaper blow out at any one of the possible locations I would be at. Before I left the nursery, stocked with wipes, diapers and more baby clothing, I felt a voice in my spirit remind me that it could be worse, I could not be the one cleaning up the poop every day because I wasn't with my little guy. OUCH. Paradigm shift. I froze, looked at the diapers in hand and said a prayer of thanks for today's poop. Yes, I realize how incredibly stupid that sounds. But when I think about my friend Sharon, not being with her little one all day, or Jenna, whose little boy is in NICU and she can't hold him let alone change his diaper, yes, I am very thankful for today's poop.
Side note: Bean did indeed hold true to form with a massive explosion this morning at CFA. I in turn smiled, grabbed the bag and embraced the poop :)
The good Lord, in what must be a great form of amusement to Him, as He watches from above, gave me two boys. The oldest of whom is at the age where any and all things involving poop is not only funny but worthy of mention, laughing at, and speaking about. Mind you, the speaking about is ALWAYS at the most inappropriate times. The youngest of these said boys is, what I believe to be, the MASTER of poopy explosions. Doesn't matter the diaper, size, shape, food intake, body positioning or any thing I do to try to minimize damage control, it is always a disaster and always results in a change of clothing for one or both of us. Folks, it is just not pretty.
This morning as I was packing the diaper bag, again, I was mentally preparing myself for a diaper blow out at any one of the possible locations I would be at. Before I left the nursery, stocked with wipes, diapers and more baby clothing, I felt a voice in my spirit remind me that it could be worse, I could not be the one cleaning up the poop every day because I wasn't with my little guy. OUCH. Paradigm shift. I froze, looked at the diapers in hand and said a prayer of thanks for today's poop. Yes, I realize how incredibly stupid that sounds. But when I think about my friend Sharon, not being with her little one all day, or Jenna, whose little boy is in NICU and she can't hold him let alone change his diaper, yes, I am very thankful for today's poop.
Side note: Bean did indeed hold true to form with a massive explosion this morning at CFA. I in turn smiled, grabbed the bag and embraced the poop :)
:)
ReplyDelete:) hehe, love it! Good job mama!
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