I Used To Be Cool

I went out to dinner with my girlfriends last night. This is a ritual that takes place the fourth Wednesday of every month. I am not sure how long this has been going on, but I've been going for a couple of years now. It's called "Hon Night" after the infamous Baltimore Hon. I don't think any of us could actually be considered Hons, but it's the sentiment that counts. Whoever has a birthday that month gets to pick the restaurant. There are a core group of women that typically show with a larger group that rotate in and out based on their availability. Interestingly, of the core group of about ten, five of us had babies within three months of each other.

Every time, I tell myself that this time I will not spend the whole time talking about my daughter and each time I spend the majority of my time talking about my daughter. I think I am a reasonably intelligent person. I follow world and national events. I have a degree in economics, which should be good for something in these times. I have traveled to more than a dozen countries and have seen a good chunk of my own country. I love movies and actually see quite a few, although I make it to the theater less often these days than would be my ideal. Netflix is a new mother's friend. I am an avid reader covering everything from the classics to modern pop literature. I'm currently working my way through the Twilight series (which depending on who you talk to falls into both of those categories), but I am taking a break to read Moose, A Memoir of Fat Camp. I have a passing knowledge of three languages. I have been a rock star bartender and a corporate marketing honcho.

And yet, despite all of this, I found myself uttering the phrase "color in equals color out" in reference to the contents of my daughter's diaper. Last night. At the table. At a restaurant.

What happened to the interesting version of me?

Random Tuesday

I don't have a thought-provoking, heart-tugging post for today. But some goings on in the Land of Bean:

• We bought Sophie a little dolly stroller the other day to encourage her to walk (I know, am I crazy?) and she absolutely loves it. She pushes it all over the place. It might be the best received toy I have ever gotten for her. Otherwise, she has taken a few wobbly independent steps, but she still crawls most of the time. Any day now!
  
• I think Sophie may be getting rid of her 2nd nap. I am devastated by this because I love our current routine, which includes a nice long morning nap for both of us. I'm hoping it's just a phase and we'll go back to our two a day naps, but if the last three or so days are any indication, my girl is moving on. Sigh.
  
• We had our first diaper-tastrophe last night. Lately Sophie has been tugging on the tabs of her diaper, pulling one side off. Generally, I keep her in clothes with waistbands so she can't get to them. It has been getting cooler at night, though, so I put her in a footed sleeper, with no waistband, last night. She awoke at her usual time this morning (about 6:15, yuck) and I left her in there for a few minutes, just in case she felt like going back to sleep. When I finally went in to pick her up, she was soaking wet. From head to foot. In truth, it could have been MUCH worse, but I felt pretty crappy (see, I wasn't going to mention poop but somehow I couldn't resist) for leaving her to sit in her cold, wet outfit for 15 minutes. Lesson learned.
  
• Sophie climbed backwards down from the landing of the stairs this morning. Usually she dives head first, generally not even putting her hands out. The good news is we have carpeting, so those nosedives didn't hurt her, but it made me a little uneasy. I'm really glad to see that she's beginning to understand a safer way down.
• I finally decided to give Facebook a look-see last night. We are having our 16th high school reunion in a couple of weeks and I was curious to see if any of my old classmates were on there. But to see, you have to sign up and then I had to create a whole profile for myself and then add pictures and then it asked about friends and then I spent two hours looking up everyone I ever knew...and now I'm addicted. Crap.

That's it for now. See, I told you nothing dramatic. Hey, they can't all be War and Peace. I'm off to go Facebook.

Really?

Is the pile of poop behind the dog really necessary?

*Among about 20 signs in the park, this is the ONLY one with a picture.

Craptastic

(warning: poop talk)

I spend a great deal of time thinking about poop these days. And I think I'm not alone based on the number of posts about poop I've read on other people's blogs. Mostly I worry, has she? will she? and when? Recently I've begun to worry what I'll get when I pull open her diaper. Will it be the gooey mess I'm used to or the new solid variety. When the solids made their first appearance I was a tad unnerved. However, I have come to prefer them. How great is that? I have a poop preference.

Lucky for me, it's been mostly smooth sailing in the poo department since the bean arrived, with only a few blips. However, this morning we had an incident. The setting: I'm changing Sophie on her fireplace changing station. She's being a cool customer for a change. Usually it's arms and legs EVERYWHERE. When I pull down her diaper, there's a little roundish turd. Not a big deal, except that as I'm rolling up her diaper for disposal, that little turd makes a run for it and lands smack on the cat's scratch box next to the fireplace. Which now that I think about it is much better than landing on our new carpet. I say something very witty and appropriate like "oh crap!"

Although I need to keep one hand on the babe so she doesn't roll off, I don't believe I'll have any trouble reaching it. However, I just used the last baby wipe and the tissue box is across the room. There's no chance I'm picking it up barehanded and somehow the idea of leaving it sit there while I finish up the diapering and redressing seems too yucky. And that's when I realize that this is what my life has come to - errant poo retrieval. Not that long ago I was living the high life with great clothes, parties, exotic vacations and, ohhhh, a waistline. I spent my days working to acquire multi-million dollar contracts for my employer. My nights, well those I spent sleeping. And here I am, staring down a turd.

Once I got my wits about me, I realized that I was just going to have to sacrifice a new diaper for the cause. So that's just what I did. In the end, I've come to terms with the poop pondering, handling and disposing that are a part of my life now. And crazy as it sounds, I wouldn't change a thing. Now, how do I tell the cats that the baby pooped on their scratching post?

Edited to add: The faux brick behind the fireplace was there when we moved in and I haven't figured out what else to put there or how to change it (maybe painting?) to make it look less, um, faux. Any ideas??

Warning: Poop Talk

It took some time, but I believe we have finally conquered Mount Solid Food. There were some stops and starts and at one point I thought we were going to have to go all the way back down to Only Breastmilk Base Camp, but in the end, we were victorious. The bean is actually eating at least one twee jar of food a day. What I hadn't quite prepared myself for was the change in poop that accompanies the transition to this new diet. During the BF exclusively days, her poop was very liquid-y and smelled, if not good, then not bad. Oh, gooey poop, how I miss thee.

Now it has a much more solid consistency, which isn't altogether bad. However, the stink that accompanies said poo definitely is. After one particularly foul smelling episode, I told Neil that we were just going to have to abandon solid food until she was potty trained. I think he thought I was kidding. I admit, it might be a little weird breast feeding a three year old, but I'll trade that awkwardness any day for that righteous stink. I mean, seriously, I'm going to have to deal with these nasty poopie diapers for the next 2+ years? Is eight months too early to begin potty training?

I recognize that this is not the most appealing of subjects and that I have nearly scared the grandparents away from babysitting with my exposure of her recent blowout, but I can't seem to resist talking about this aspect of parenting. Maybe it's because I spend so much of my day attending to her "movements" or maybe its because I stopped reading the bloody parenting books so I didn't see it coming or maybe its because I'm a stay at home mom whose primary daily interaction is with a 7 month old baby. Probably all of the above. Sorry.