Monday, September 6, 2010

Guest Poster: "Power Pooper!"

As much as it pains me that the only posts I've had in the last month are two guest least they are from the same fantabulous person. Please give Frantic Mommy another warm welcome!!!


Have you had one of those days when:

A. You wish you would have never gotten out of bed.


B. You are unsure how your husband makes it through his day without dragging his knuckles like a dang caveman.

A few years ago, I had one of those days. Actually I’ve had MANY days like that in my 21 years of marriage, but this one is forever etched in my beady little brain.

Princess Sara was a baby back then. Cute as a button, sweet as sugar, and the Best.Baby.Ever. She slept through the night at 11 weeks. She rarely cried, smiled a lot, and was as healthy as a horse. She is the perfect child….

with one exception….

….the kid crapped out half her body weight on a regular basis. They weren’t just dainty little poops like her petite little 12 pound body. They were huge, messy, and could choke an ox at 100 yards with the smell. Did I mention she was a “Power Pooper?” Seriously, her turds did not just squeak out, they erupted. The PSI (Poop-per-square-inch) was mind-boggling and even my daycare lady who’d been in the biz 20 years was amazed.

Any-whoo, the day I am referring to did not start off well to begin with. I woke up late, my zipper broke, and apparently I didn’t have another clean pair of pants in the whole stinkin house (fire the laundry lady! Oh wait..that’s me). Like most working parents, I had my morning planned to the nanosecond with ZERO margin for error. That’s when Princess Poopy Pants threw me a curve ball. As I trotted to her room, I could tell half a house away that Mount St. Crap Pants had erupted.

Quickly I scooped her up. I look at her face and note she didn’t look like Winston Churchill so I assumed the “grunting” and “evacuation” portion of her deed was over and all I need to do is to clean up this colossal Mud Slide South of Her Border. I laid her down, opened the Diaper From Hell, and leaned over her to reach for a handful of the 47 wipes it will take to clean up her tiny tushy..

….and disaster strikes.

My Mini Me unleashes Round Two of her Crap-a-Thon. Not a gentle gush, mind you. It comes out with the velocity and style of oatmeal being blown out of a canon. Instantly I am hit with a high-powered load of sh*t and that is rank enough to part one’s hair. In fact, it is IN my hair…on my nose…on my shirt…even on the bedroom door across the room.

I sh*t you not.

I clean her and myself up the best I can (which includes me stripping down to my bra) and take her to Daddy. I quickly inform him his beloved little dumpling has just befouled herself, her room, and her mother.

I was heading for the shower ASAP.

My husband looks puzzled. “Why?”, he asks.

Why? Are you freakin mental??? I have baby crap in my hair!

“Can’t you just comb it out?” he offers.

Ummm ….yeah. RIGHT.

It must be a bitch for him to keep his knuckles from being skinned all the time. Pass the Wooly Mammoth please.

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  1. That was so damned funny...I love it. Sorry ... but that was really really funny!!!

  2. Oh, I love this! My eldest son got some sort of bad stomach bug when he was just a wee one. My ex-husband was sitting on the floor getting ready to change his diaper while I was dealing with my daughter's diaper. Digger let out a grunt and let it fly as soon as the diaper was off...we're talking world class projectile liquid crap. He nailed his dad's shirt and jeans, but miraculously *missed* the diaper that his dad had just put under his butt.

    I couldn't do a darn thing because I was bent over, wiping the tears from my eyes. Trust me, there were many times during our marriage that I could have repeated the feat :)

  3. ah... I love a good poop story in the morning. With my coffee (insert content sigh here);)
    Thanks for letting me invade your turf and guest post!!

  4. I adore a good poop post! Especially one that makes me laugh as hard as this one.


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