Ordinarily, I would not start a post title with That Word. But I spent a significant amount of time (yes, more than a full minute) trying to come up a title without it and I could not. This post is just about poo. Well, poo and parenting.
Until I became a parent, I didn’t realize how those two things related. Now I know that, at least during this stage of parenting, they are inextricably linked.
And so our story begins.
Nighttimes are going very well for us, all things considered. But they invariably go better for Scott because he is not the one waking up at odd hours and trying to fumble in the dark to feed a ravenous Mackenzie. 🙂
So when there’s a rough night and Mackenzie doesn’t sleep quite as long of a stretch as we’d like, I am toast in the morning. Actually, our bed is more like the toast and I am more like the jam you spread on toast. I try and scrape myself out of bed and be a mom in the morning but I just feel so crumby. Ha! (Sorry, couldn’t resist.)
Anyway, normally I get up and start breakfast. Then,I put Mackenzie on Scott’s chest to wake him up, and I straighten up the house while breakfast is cooking and Scott is showering. We read our scriptures together, eat breakfast, and then Scott begins his day of studying.
Earlier this week Mackenzie had a Very Bad Night. My sweet husband told me to stay in bed “just for a bit” and he’d take her while I slept a few more minutes. A full hour and a half later, I woke up and was a new woman. I came downstairs to find Mackenzie wrapped in a blanket. She was sitting in her chair watching her daddy whip up a smoothie for breakfast.
I thanked him profusely and said I’d take over Mackenzie duty. Before Scott went upstairs to shower, he kissed Mackenzie as she sat in her little chair and he looked up at me a bit mischievously.
“Oh, by the way… she MAY have pooped a little while ago.” (Little smile.)
“And you didn’t change her?!” I replied, concerned.
I knew Scott wasn’t a huge fan of poopy diapers, and I honestly don’t mind changing them at all. Still, though, I didn’t think he’d knowingly let her sit in her poop for any length of time. In addition, I knew something he didn’t: she hadn’t pooped in day and a half.
His face fell just a bit and he said, “Well, I’m not positive it was poo… it could have just been gas.” “Besides,” he continued, a bit less sure of himself now, “She would have cried if it was very much poo… right?”
He was absolutely correct, or so I thought at the time. She typically throws a fit when she has a dirty diaper (as would I, quite frankly). But on that morning, Mackenzie was sitting there, content as can be, just watching her daddy make breakfast. I smiled at Scott to reassure him he did a good job on dad duty.
And then I lifted up the blanket that was covering her.
She had pooped with such volume and intensity that there was poo in her armpit.
I wish I was kidding.
She was wearing darling fleece-lined jeans and you might have thought that those jeans would have contained what the diaper could not. Nope. From the looks of things, after her diaper (and pants) had filled with poop… she had peed.
Scott and I were both so shocked to discover this, that our jaws just dropped. And then it dawned on Scott. He had let his daughter repose in nasty for who-knows-how-long. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so devastated.
As I gathered our sweet, drenched daughter up and whisked her upstairs to be
bathed hosed down… Scott stayed right by her side, apologizing to her and kissing her (on her face, which was miraculously poo-free). He drew the bath for her, obsessing about getting it the right temperature. Although baths are usually my department, he kept hovering as I put her in the tub and he tenderly held her head so I could make sure we got every part of her clean.
I pulled her out of the tub into a dry hooded towel. She was, as before, content as can be. But I looked over at Scott and his expression was still pained. So I handed our toweled, clean, and damp daughter over to him for a snuggle. Only when he held her himself and saw that she truly was ok did he relax.
If I had any doubts about whether Scott would be an excellent father to our children, putting their needs above his own, and wrapping up his happiness in theirs… those doubts are now gone. His reaction to his innocent mistake was just priceless.
Poo notwithstanding… he is a fantastic husband and father. 🙂