excrement, effluvia, monkey, toes

Poop. Glorious poop! Solid food poop. How I adore thee. So far, anyway.

Believe it or not, we’ve “caught” the poop. In the sink. Easy enough to do since the boy makes a special “I’m about to POOP!” grunting sound.

He was so delighted, watching himself in the mirror as the event went down. I took a picture of the results the first time it happened, with my camera phone, because the poop was picturesque, and that was the recording tool I had at hand. And then I sent it to Scott, because, hey, it was in the phone. His coworkers razzed him mercilessly.

I considered whether or not to post the photo here. But I decided not to. Some things, you can just picture in your own mind, if you want.

* * *

He was a champion solid food eater on Wednesday. Loved his liver, sweet potato, avocado, and prune juice. (It occurs to me, I’m feeding my boy like an old Jew.)

And then he had two bottles in the process of Scott putting him to bed. 3 ounces of milk. Plus the heat, the struggling and crying, being rocked on a full stomach…

At 8p.m. he started crying. For the third time. I brought him down to the living room so he could snuggle with me while I finished my dinner (trying to take care of two needs at once).

At first, I thought he was just spitting up. But then the convulsions, the choking sounds, the goo coming out of his mouth and nose, more and more, everywhere. Sweet potato et. al. I held him up, held him sideways, not sure what to do. Scott scrambled for a burp cloth. Goo flew. His little body wracked.

It. Was. Awful.

I worried, of course, that perhaps I’d been less than perfect with my food prep and sterilization skills. I’d poisoned him. All my fault.

He was exhausted. We held him for a while. Then, when he seemed ready to go to bed, Scott took him back to the nursery, laid him down, and the retching began again.

Now I’m really panicked. And Scott is covered in clear, viscous, baby liquid.

We call the advice nurse who gives us the list of symptoms to watch out for, the procedure of how to feed and not feed, under what circumstances we should take him to the hospital. Basically, she calmed me down. Dehydration was our biggest concern, and so far, that hadn’t happened yet (still crying tears, mouth still wet). Eight hours of vomiting would be a problem. But, in fact, after one more small urp, the boy fell asleep. In bed, with us. We kept him there where he nurse-napped till morning. And has been fine ever since. Though I’ve taken a two-day break on feeding him solids, for my own sanity.

* * *

How many monkeys are in this scene?

 

Hint:

This IS a trick question.

Answer: 6 (two shoes, one stuffie, one each on front and back of t-shirt, and the Jonah-monkey in the middle.)

* * *

Toes:

Hooray!