***Warning***
This post is about our daughter. If you dont like baby humor, turn back now. If you have children that have outgrown puking and pooping on you, be warned this post may cause violent flashbacks to your children's early years.
Chris was on vacation this week. One morning last week he woke up and realized I was one dirty diaper away from tottering over to the Skyway Bridge with a rum bottle in hand and taking a swan dive.** He decided to use his vacation time. You know what that means. Mommy was on vacation! Yes! I would love to report that I spent this time in a pill induced daze, washing all of them down with liquor but alas, our budget didnt reach that far.** I did, however, happily take advantage of him being home and he stepped up like a champ.
Which brings me to this blog post. This week, Chris and I decided to switch the baby's formula to one with a soy base, instead of milk. We were concerned that she might have a mild milk allergy so he made the trip to Walmart all by his onesie at O-dark-30, bringing home the new formula to give it a go. The change was almost immediate. She began napping easily during the day for longer stretches, where before she hardly napped at all. Her spit up changed in that it was not as prolific and it stopped looking like Rorschach blots. I'm glad, because it was really creeping me out how often I saw Elvis formed in the goob spots on her clothes.
The only downside to this was some constipation. We'd gone through this before with the change in her formula from the first time, so we figured it was just her little tummy getting used to the change. She finally had a bowel movement the second day after changing her formula (most babies go twice a day, she was only going once a day regularly). We talked it over. Actually, no we didnt. Discuss it, that is. All through my pregnancy I had this idea in my head that Chris was going to have to make some adjustments. I'm fairly laid back and so is he, but I was certain that when the baby came the more autocratic parts of my nature would shine. Well, it has. But Chris's are far, far worse and it's me who's had to do the adjusting. He absolutely hates for his precious little snowflake to be in discomfort of any kind. Not because she's fussy, or crying, but because she is his precious little snowflake who should not have to endure anything, ever.
Where was I? Ah, so we were at the part of our non discussion.
Him: "We should give her some prune juice to help her along."
Me: "If you're sure..."
Him: *Stare*
I went and fixed the bottle like the good baby mama I am and returned with it. He fed it to her and I sighed, certain of what was going to happen. We've had to do the prune juice routine before (everything at the pediatrician's recommendation) and it's been successful. In fact, there was one time when it was just a little too successful. This was months ago, when we first switched her formula over. It was a weekend day, and after feeding the gremlin prune juice I noticed that her diaper had turned an interesting shade of brown. As I had been changing the bulk of the diapers that day, I told Chris it was his turn. He stood up after taking the baby in his arms, and immediately we heard a squelching sound, then some interesting 'splats'. Her diaper had pretty much hit critical mass and with one final victorious fart, she sent shit shooting out the side. It landed mostly on Chris, and some on the floor. Where was I, you ask? Well, I was seated on my couch, laughing too hard to be of any use.
You can see why I might have had some hesitation in offering prune juice again, but Chris had already won that round. This evening, a few hours after giving her the juice, Chris was looking pretty worn out. I took the baby from him to give him a break. After feeding her some of the soy formula I had her on my shoulder, burping her. She's been praticising her ninja moves, because she somehow managed to find a hole in the burp cloth and spit up an interesting mix of formula and prune juice down my side. While I was burping her I noticed she was pooping so I held her upright against my other side and let her finish. Not long after that I noticed a giant brown stain forming on the white tank top I was wearing. Yup, poop was coming out everywhere.
I was not thrilled about being shat upon. Who would be? These things certainly werent in any of the parenting brochures that were handed out with such abundance that we could have wall papered the entire house with them. They pointed out all of the positives of having a baby, about why babies cry, and everything else, but no one ever said, "They shit on you. A lot." In my opinion, this is the sort of thing they should warn you about. I suppose if someone is going to shit on me in my life, the baby is the least offensive option. I'm not admitting to any weird fetishes here, I'm just saying that if it has to be anybody, the baby is the most likely to survive the event.
Chris, being awesome, took her to the nursery and started to clean her up. I went to take a shower, making it clear to Chris not to hand her off until she was done. He assumed that because nothing was coming out of her ass while he was cleaning her up, that meant that she was done and handed her off to me. What happens next? Yeah, she shit on me some more. The only bright spot in this was that we were in the hot shower already with soap and a clear drain readily available.
I wish that it were over. I really do. But no. This morning, more of the same. She woke up with a dirty diaper (unusual) then she pooped again within an hour and when Chris handed her over to me to go run an errand, she let out some wet farts. I went through 7 diapers in about 10 minutes. Every time I changed her, she pooped, or peed, or both, or left skid marks. Any parent will tell you that 7 diapers in a row is excessive. To the Good People of Diaperland, you fought bravely, your sacrifice was noble. This mama appreciates the fight you put up but alas, my daughter's bowel movements proved too much for you.
She's laying down now. I pray she is finished. I have A&D up to my elbows and the last of my Diaper Soldiers are quivering in fear. Please Lord, let this be the end, for now.
Which brings me to this blog post. This week, Chris and I decided to switch the baby's formula to one with a soy base, instead of milk. We were concerned that she might have a mild milk allergy so he made the trip to Walmart all by his onesie at O-dark-30, bringing home the new formula to give it a go. The change was almost immediate. She began napping easily during the day for longer stretches, where before she hardly napped at all. Her spit up changed in that it was not as prolific and it stopped looking like Rorschach blots. I'm glad, because it was really creeping me out how often I saw Elvis formed in the goob spots on her clothes.
The only downside to this was some constipation. We'd gone through this before with the change in her formula from the first time, so we figured it was just her little tummy getting used to the change. She finally had a bowel movement the second day after changing her formula (most babies go twice a day, she was only going once a day regularly). We talked it over. Actually, no we didnt. Discuss it, that is. All through my pregnancy I had this idea in my head that Chris was going to have to make some adjustments. I'm fairly laid back and so is he, but I was certain that when the baby came the more autocratic parts of my nature would shine. Well, it has. But Chris's are far, far worse and it's me who's had to do the adjusting. He absolutely hates for his precious little snowflake to be in discomfort of any kind. Not because she's fussy, or crying, but because she is his precious little snowflake who should not have to endure anything, ever.
Where was I? Ah, so we were at the part of our non discussion.
Him: "We should give her some prune juice to help her along."
Me: "If you're sure..."
Him: *Stare*
I went and fixed the bottle like the good baby mama I am and returned with it. He fed it to her and I sighed, certain of what was going to happen. We've had to do the prune juice routine before (everything at the pediatrician's recommendation) and it's been successful. In fact, there was one time when it was just a little too successful. This was months ago, when we first switched her formula over. It was a weekend day, and after feeding the gremlin prune juice I noticed that her diaper had turned an interesting shade of brown. As I had been changing the bulk of the diapers that day, I told Chris it was his turn. He stood up after taking the baby in his arms, and immediately we heard a squelching sound, then some interesting 'splats'. Her diaper had pretty much hit critical mass and with one final victorious fart, she sent shit shooting out the side. It landed mostly on Chris, and some on the floor. Where was I, you ask? Well, I was seated on my couch, laughing too hard to be of any use.
You can see why I might have had some hesitation in offering prune juice again, but Chris had already won that round. This evening, a few hours after giving her the juice, Chris was looking pretty worn out. I took the baby from him to give him a break. After feeding her some of the soy formula I had her on my shoulder, burping her. She's been praticising her ninja moves, because she somehow managed to find a hole in the burp cloth and spit up an interesting mix of formula and prune juice down my side. While I was burping her I noticed she was pooping so I held her upright against my other side and let her finish. Not long after that I noticed a giant brown stain forming on the white tank top I was wearing. Yup, poop was coming out everywhere.
I was not thrilled about being shat upon. Who would be? These things certainly werent in any of the parenting brochures that were handed out with such abundance that we could have wall papered the entire house with them. They pointed out all of the positives of having a baby, about why babies cry, and everything else, but no one ever said, "They shit on you. A lot." In my opinion, this is the sort of thing they should warn you about. I suppose if someone is going to shit on me in my life, the baby is the least offensive option. I'm not admitting to any weird fetishes here, I'm just saying that if it has to be anybody, the baby is the most likely to survive the event.
Chris, being awesome, took her to the nursery and started to clean her up. I went to take a shower, making it clear to Chris not to hand her off until she was done. He assumed that because nothing was coming out of her ass while he was cleaning her up, that meant that she was done and handed her off to me. What happens next? Yeah, she shit on me some more. The only bright spot in this was that we were in the hot shower already with soap and a clear drain readily available.
I wish that it were over. I really do. But no. This morning, more of the same. She woke up with a dirty diaper (unusual) then she pooped again within an hour and when Chris handed her over to me to go run an errand, she let out some wet farts. I went through 7 diapers in about 10 minutes. Every time I changed her, she pooped, or peed, or both, or left skid marks. Any parent will tell you that 7 diapers in a row is excessive. To the Good People of Diaperland, you fought bravely, your sacrifice was noble. This mama appreciates the fight you put up but alas, my daughter's bowel movements proved too much for you.
She's laying down now. I pray she is finished. I have A&D up to my elbows and the last of my Diaper Soldiers are quivering in fear. Please Lord, let this be the end, for now.
**These might be slight exaggerations.
Oh geez >< How's she feeling now? How are YOU feeling now?
ReplyDeleteI kept a bottle of dark karo syrup around (like you said, at the ped's recommendation; one tablespoon in a bottle a couple of times a day) for if the boys were constipated. You know, I've been giving them soy milk for a couple months, and even now their bowel habits have improved.
They still drink regular milk too, but I'm anal (haha) about it being organic. That seems to have helped, too. I wonder what exactly they're sensitive to, or if they have mild milk allergies as well.
Akalee's mom about had a cow (I'm killing myself here) when she found out I wasn't giving them milk daily. BUT WHERE WILL THEY GET THEIR CALCIUM?!? I dunno, like the cows do, from every friggin green thing that you people should be eating anyways?
Yeah. Milk wars.
Word verification: punskaec
noun. a delightful swedish dessert made from the tears over my puns during this comment.
The baby is just fine. She thought everything was hilarious. Let me tell you, that was the salt in the wound. "HAHAHA I just shit on you mommy!" Giggle, giggle, coo, coo. "I'm the cutest thing ever, oops I pooped on you again! Isnt that the FUNNIEST THING EVER?!" Truthfully, I had to laugh, even if it is a bit disturbing to be up to one's eyebrows in feces. So, I'm okay. Really I am. I just had to vent this one out.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad that the boys are doing good on Soy and I'm totally on board with them being on organic stuff. I've read a few articles and there was a good one about the top 10 good items to eat organic, and the top 10 'hyped' that can be avoided.
Green stuff? Are we talking about little aliens? I dont think eating little green people will improve our relations with other peoples. :0p (I'm kidding)
Do you have a link to that article? I'd like to see it!
ReplyDeleteI'm actually looking right now at buying a "cow share" and getting organic milk straight from the farm. I have half my acquaintances horrified at the thought and half ecstatic that I want raw milk, when neither camps are totally true: I'll be pasteurizing it myself, for more time and at a lower temperature to help retain the taste. I will not, however, be homogenizing it (I want to use the cream!) nor will it have all the extra junk added.