Scatological

It’s amazing how much of my day revolves around pee and poop. There are the standard old comedy bits about trying to determine if I smell poop in a diaper. The answer is yes, it’s always yes. Beyond that ol’ chestnut there is the constant worry if there are enough diapers. We use cloth diapers, not because we care about the environment, but because we want our baby to shit in style. What says upper class more than not caring if you defecate in what is essentially a t-shirt?

The downside of this is the direct contact with the feces. It used to be, toss it in the washing machine and forget about it. Then the baby started eating solids. Here’s an interesting fact, 12 month old babies do not digest seeds, nor does the washing machine. After each wash there is a little cup of trail mix in the washing machine trap. Each seed as pristine as the day it was picked out of the fruit. That is when I’m lucky. When I am unlucky the seeds jam up the discharge hose and I find myself snaking out rubber pipes from the washing machine in the bathtub. That best part of that it you don’t don’t know it’s happened until after the washing machine has filled and ran for a bit, meaning you get to bail out poop water with a yogurt container. In our case we have a front loading machine which means you have to precariously prop it up on an angle so it doesn’t flow out onto the carpet when you open the front door, like a shit tsunami.

Whirling vortex of yuck

After that happening a few times we got the hint and started dipping the diapers or scraping them into the toilet. They say that kids who use cloth diapers potty train earlier. I don’t believe it has anything to do with the diaper and everything to do with the parent wanting to rid themselves of this horrible job.

As for the 4 year old I am constantly reminding her to wipe her bum and wash her hands. It became such a mantra of mine that she created a song:

You wipe your bum,
you wash your hands,
and don’t forget to pull up your pants.

The first two lines of that are the most troubling. In one it’s gross to think about and the other is a gross surprise to be found at bedtime.

I think the hardest thing about being a stay-at-home dad is that I never get to use the bathroom alone anymore. There are always spectators now. Like a weird cheering team, except one is always rushing the playing field only to be pushed back by a foot on her chest.

A visit from the Princess while sitting on the throne. This picture was only partially staged.

The absolute best is when the baby is upset and screaming her head off and there you are sitting on the toilet. That’s when it’s time to weigh the options, do you let the baby scream or do you stop mid “job” and walk with knees pressed together to comfort the baby? I came up with a new option. Throw the roll of toilet paper at the baby and hope for the best. It worked like a charm, she sat there and played happily with the roll. The real issue happened when she batted it down the hall...

This picture was totally staged. Can you guess how I got the baby to cry?