This morning while changing my sons diaper, he pooped. Not just a little, no, it was alot. I removed his diaper, and he pooped all over the changing pad. So you know what I did...laughed (and then made sure he was done before I attempted to clean up).
As a first time mother I am honestly suprised by how much of my day revolves around poop. Cleaning it up, looking at the color, the consistancy, and counting how many times he does poop.
Why is it that when you become a mother seeing poop on your hand is just part of the job? Before becoming a mother, if I discovered poop on my hand, I would have freaked out and bathed my hand in sanitizer. However, I find poop on my hand all the time now (or on my shirt, or pants, or the couch, sheets, etc). Somehow, birthing a child creates an ammunity to the freak-out normally accociated with poop. So as mothers, we calmly wash our hands, change the diapers, and laugh at all the poop in our lives.
My little poop maker
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