Skip to main content

The Poopageddon

Cherish and I survived the Poopageddon.
I don't say this lightly.
It was ugly. It was messy. And most of all, it was stinky.
The stink penetrated my very being, down to the roots of my soul.
Experienced parents probably already have guessed what happened over the New Year's weekend.
Yes, Willow had a bout with Cha-cha (that's what Cherish and I call it; you probably call it diarrhea).
Poopageddon went according to book. "The Willow Manual" (aka "Baby 411") told us Willow had a stomach virus, commonly referred to as the stomach flu. "The Willow Manual" told us Willow would vomit on the first day then have diarrhea the next three or four days.
And that's what happened.
"The Willow Manual" DID NOT tell us we'd be doing multiple loads of laundry, disinfecting multiple surfaces and taking multiple trips to the trash bin in the garage.
After we put a second set of sheets and baby clothing in the washer, we knew our weekend plans had changed: We weren't setting foot outside this house.
But Willow was a trouper throughout.
She didn't seem to mind what was going on in her diaper (she was perturbed a time or two when the Cha-cha kept her from sleeping). Actually, I think she liked the extra attention from Mommy and Daddy (as if we don't fawn over her every waking, and sleeping, moment of the day).
By Day 3, the Poopageddon subsided. Willow played merrily in the floor with a dry bum, and Mommy and Daddy relaxed.
All in all, Poopageddon wasn't that bad. I'm sure we'll have many worse episodes, and I'm sure many parents out there are rolling their eyes at our small beans.
After all, Poopageddon didn't have Cherish and me rushing to the doctor (or really overly worried), and Willow played throughout the weekend as happily as ever.
But let me tell you folks ...
The STINK ...
THAT might be with us forever.
Labels:

Comments

  1. Kate G. SmithJanuary 3, 2012 at 9:25 AM

    Word of warning: Do not EVER hand a baby/toddler/small child a bunch of bananas to hold. Said child will invariably eat the fibrous part that holds the bananas together, which will proceed to keep NOTHING together as it wends through said child's digestive system. Frightening things occur.

    I'm not sure which is worse: Poopageddon or Vomitageddon. At least you can semi-contain poop. I've found throw up in places I'd never have guessed it could go. I'm so glad mine are old enough to aim for the toilet or warn me to pull the car over now.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

With baby comes packing (and a lot of it)

Willow, Che and I are traveling to see the grandparents, aunts, cousins and Mos (or is it Moes or is it Mo's or is it Moses?) in Henderson, Tenn., this weekend. And that brings up one of the big differences between being a couple without kids and being a couple with kids: packing for travel (they even have an app for that, God bless us packing-weary parents). Back in my pre-child days, packing hardly mattered, probably taking up 1 zillionth of a tenth of a percent of my brain capacity to do (six days equals six days of socks and underwear plus some T-shirts, some shorts, a pair or two of pants, put on some shoes, throw in some toothpaste, and I was off). That's hardly the case anymore. Take, for example, if you have a spit-up-prone baby. Do you take two burp clothes, four, eight or, maybe, 16? Better take 24. And how many diapers do you take? Or wipes? Do I need to take baby medicine? Is it going to be cold or warm or cold and warm or warm and hot then ... AACK!!! You get t...
2 comments
Read more

Willow's morning of play, play, play exhausts poor, old Dad

Willow's playtime universe continues to grow. Rapidly. Witness. In the midsummer heat, I take Willow out to our shaded backyard in the morning to play. And play she does. She climbed into her swing first. After I pushed her for a while, I got her out of the swing and put her in her wagon so she could help me convey bags of sand from the garage to the backyard to fill her sandbox (part of her new swing set) and her water table sandbox. She took rake and shovel and played in the sandbox for a bit. Then she waddled over to the deck and started to climb the steps to get to the water table. She played in the sand a bit, but most of her time was used dipping water up and out of the water part of the water table. Most the water ended up all over her. After that she wanted off the deck to go back to swinging. Instead I retrieved the new tricycle Cherish procured from a Franklin recycle center and cleaned it up. Willow loved the trike, holding on to the handle bars while I pushed her...
Post a Comment
Read more

Willow's tooth-brushing goes from rocky to rocking

Willow has been giving us fits for months now about brushing her teeth before bed. She's usually better brushing her teeth in the morning, meaning it's less like wrestling an alligator for me, but at night before bed, she turns into the Tasmanian Devil. We've tried making the tooth-brushing as fun as possible for her, but I usually end up holding her against her will while I try, mostly in vain, to pry the toothbrush into her clamped-shut mouth. Sometimes we give up. We've tried singing to her. Dancing. Story-telling. Tickling. Nothing has really worked. But Mommy might have hit on the solution. A singing toothbrush. Yesterday Mommy brought home a toothbrush that belts out Queen singing "We Will Rock You." This toothbrush ROCKS! And Willow loves it. We tried it out last night, and on the inaugural brushing, Willow brushed her teeth successfully all by herself. She danced the whole time too. And I stayed bruise free (I also, surprisingly, had more energ...
Post a Comment
Read more