Stomach of Steel

It's true what they say. Things do change when you have kids. You and the hubby have to steal alone time, you have new priorities, you're diaper/formula/daycare poor, you're sleep deprived --- the list goes on and on! Really, for me, one of the most unexpected changes to parenthood is the stomach you develop.

There's a scene in Baby Mama where Tina Fey's nephew comes up and he's covered in brown gooeyness. His mother asks him just about three times, "Is that chocolate or poop?" To which he just giggles. She finally licks the concoction and says, "Mmm, Chocolate." Tina asks, "What if that had been poop?" to which her sister replies, "It comes with the territory." Understatement of the year!

When my Erin was much younger (presolid food!) I did have a couple of those moments. Except I wasn't contemplating if it was something yummy like chocolate. Mine was more, "mustard or poop?" I admit, I licked too. Sometimes I was lucky and it was predigested food, sometimes it wasn't. That my friend, did not earn me the badge for the stomach of steel. I needed something that was going to push me to my limits.

Erin had been off and on sick for about a week. We were alternating between loose poops and vomiting. We had been playing "Pass the Baby" since Erin could not recontaminate the children who had contaminated her. Keith took her to the doctor who asked for us to fill, not 1, not 2 but FOUR viles with her poop. And so the waiting game began.

And then, as Erin was playing there was a pause, followed by a symphony of bubbling and squirt noises. Sigh. The time had come.

I changed Erin, set her soiled diaper to the side and put her in her crib with some toys, locked the dog in his crate and made myself comfortable on the floor so that I could begin to scrape poop. Such fun!

And so I began. I must tell you that as Erin's poop was loose and watery there wasn't as much scraping as there was squeezing (I'll spare you the details). There really is a technique and after 3 diapers I'd say that I mastered it. But to clarify, we still haven't pushed the limits all the way.

Erin had been entertaining herself in her crib, occasionally popping up to supervise my work or to let me know she had an additional sample. I continued to work and my skin had turned a brown color (and no it wasn't because I am Latina with an olive complexion). I was very focused and scraping the last sample to fill my 3rd vile when Erin was talking to me about only she knows what. It must have been very exciting because she began to jump up and down. "Erin, no saltes. Erin, por favor." She either wasn't listening or didn't care but she suddenly stopped. At this point I was sitting with my back against the crib for support. I started to turn my head to thank her for listening when she proceeded to vomit all over the top of  mommy's head and down my back. My friends, we had reached the limit! Poop in hand, i looked at her and said, "Mija, wait until Mommy scrapes this poop and then we'll take a bath." I repositioned myself against the crib, she lost interest in her supervision and I, covered in vomit, kept on scraping poop.