Sunday, November 7, 2010


This past week Lydia went two days without going um..., well poop. I looked in my trusty baby rearing books and it turns out that particularly breastfeed babies will go several days some even a week without going number two. Breast milk is the ultimate superfood so every single drop of pure goodness is used for growing and no waste is produced. After reading I still said to Eliot, I think I will call the doctor in the morning just to touch base anyway. Early the next morning the monstrous roaring of intestines vibrated the room. Noises came from our precious little package signaling the arrival of a foul package. I transported Lydia quickly to her changing table and I began to peel away the layers like an onion, just less tasty. Blanket poop. Pajama poop. Sock poop. Oh and the unveiling of the diaper: another poopspectaular!

My mom keeps asking me if this is normal for such a large amount of poop to come from such a tiny baby and I keep telling her yes, but I am starting to wonder myself. There was so much poop on her, it was easier to just stick her in the bathroom sink and unstinky her. All the while she is screaming bloody murder and I am patiently wiping as much as I can before we head to the sink. As I moved her she evidently wasn't quite finished. A spearlike quirt of the yellow seedy mess sensation projected across the room. I tell you, it could've poked my eye out, luckily I was closer to her head.

She really did not want me to call the doctor.

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