See that? It’s a pebble. Relatively innocuous, one wouldn’t think that something so small and insignificant could cause so much smelly annoyance.
Guess what my husband and I have spent the last 24 hours doing? If you said lounging on the beach, fruity umbrella, hand-in-hand, basking in both the beautiful sunset and our love for one another, you’d be close.
Except not at all.
If you said putting on rubber gloves and alternately squishy & sifting through every particle of every bowel movement that has passed through my daughter’s adorable butt cheeks in search of the above pictured rock, you’d be closer.
And, of course, they are the smelliest, smelliest bowel movements she’s had in months. There I stood, hunched over the toilet bowl squeezing turds into the toilet. It’s become a science, and I’m very concerned I might miss a spot. Seriously? Are you kidding me? This is what my life has been reduced to?
I should have known this was coming when I discovered a sticker in my daughter’s poop at 7 months of age. Not in her poop as though someone had stuck it in her diaper, but in her poop like she ate it, unsuccessfully attempted to digest it, and then pooped it out. This child is more obsessed with actually eating foreign objects than anyone other baby I’ve ever met.
I’ve washed my hands 300 times today and still don’t feel clean. And the feces smelled so bad you could actually taste it, rather than just smell it.
*sigh* I’m wrapping her in bubble wrap and we’re never leaving the house again.
So now for the big question: do I put the rock in her baby book?