A Bird in the Hand

Each time I think I've dealt with the grossest thing I'll have to as a parent, a new one comes at me. For a couple of weeks, I've been looking forward to the hair appointment that I had scheduled for today.

Last night, H slept horribly but awoke in a great mood, such a great mood, that I found myself reciprocating even through my sleep-deprived fog! A couple hours later, the tide turned. He is not really a clingy kid, so it was odd, when he was my little spider monkey pal, begging me 'don't take a shower!' when I told him that I needed to have him play in his room so I could get ready.

That morning, he'd already given three "I pooped" false alarms, but I found a little suprise when I went to change what I thought would just be a wet diaper. After recovering from the shock, I called my friend Alex who is always calm even when asked about the most gross and quirky things. Following her advice I called the pediatrician whose triage nurse instructed me to slap on some diaper cream and put him in a warm bath....and then wait. I casually asked how long I should wait before calling back, and she said "it'll come all the way out, you just wait until it does." Awesome.

Is it bad that in my head I was looking at the clock and calculating 'if he just gets the job done, I can skip the shampoo in the shower and still have time to make my appointment'? Being the stellar parent that I am, I decided it would be better to call and re-schedule.

H was fine after about 10 minutes spent languishing in a warm bath, and I called my hairdresser with lightning speed, only to find that my slot had already been filled. Good thing I'm such a procrastinator. I never did clean the tub over the weekend, but you can bet that I cleaned it to a sparkling shine now!

Never fear, I'm getting those roots taken care of on Thursday. You know what they say...A poo in the tub is worth two in the tush.