Potty Mouth

Poop.

Being a parent has brought many changes into life.  Less sleep, more musing, more worries and fears, more tears, more joys and especially more laughter.  It's also changed the timbre of conversation.  I find myself opening talking about things (even on the internets land!) that I previously didn't. Pooping and tooting has become a great topic of conversation around the house, for example.

Did he poop yet? How many times? What colour? Texture? Smell?

Poop is like the easiest way to know how a baby is doing.  Crying? Maybe a dirty diaper.  The stuff in it looks funny? Doctor time! Looks normal? Probably just gas/overtired/hungry.

Because poop is such an important thing for parents to care about, breastfeeding or formula, it has been on my mind.  And on my tongue (the subject, not the actual matter.  Yuck.).  I sing songs about poop to my young son.  One was a song I made up, stating the importance of pooping.  It hurts babies a little bit to go.  Their systems are still figuring it all out, so I was assuring him that pooping is indeed a good thing.  He agreed with me.  At least, I think he did as he pooped three times in the chorus.

Another pooping song is one that is sung when he seems to need to go.  It's to the tune of Beyonce's "Work it out".  It's a highly appropriate choice, given the flatulent sounding saxophones in the original.  "Come on baby, work it out!"  Or the ever popular (and appropriate), "Everything comes down to poo" from Scrubs.

And when he pooped on me, that was something.  It wasn't something good, but it sure was something.

It's strange as a parent that we compliment and commend tooting and burping, knowing full well that he'll be told off for not saying excuse me in a few years.  Talk about mixed signals.

Poop.