Poop

WARNING: If you are easily grossed out, skip this post :) Check back another day...

As some of you know, I have had problems with Isabelle having blowout diapers ever since I first visited her at 6 months old. I thought she was probably just having a hard time adjusting to different foods, etc., and wondered the same thing on every subsequent visit.

Her foster mom did tell me that whenever she is cutting a tooth she gets diaharrea, so I thought maybe that was a partial explanation. But after we got home it continued. And then, as I mentioned a couple of days ago, she finally cut a molar she'd been working on. Well, I admit that when I stuck my finger in her mouth and did some investigating I discovered that somewhere along the way she had cut another molar that I missed (good thing I was brushing her gums anyway!)

Okay, so maybe she has just HAPPENED to be cutting a tooth practically every time I've ever been with her. Maybe? Maybe not.

Finally my friend Monica convinced me to call the doctor and insist on being seen sooner than our appt on the 17th. Then she cut the tooth and voila! No more blowouts! Yippee! Problem solved.

New problem. No more poop. The end. Finito. So I start thinking to myself, "At what point do we resort to prunes? How fast is the 'result'?" I have not a clue about such things.

And then we go to dinner at church yesterday, which was great! Everyone got to meet her, she charmed the whole gang, and she ate THREE PLATES of green beans for dinner. I had tried to feed her before we went but she wasn't hungry. And then dinner was 'Octoberfest' and I wasn't so keen on giving her sausage and sauerkraut, so green beans it was. She prefers green beans over ice cream anyway.

So we get home and it's bath time. May I remind you that bath time means she sits happily in her cute little plastic tub in the big bathtub while I shower in there too. And then I look down and see it. And smell it. And have to fish out all the pieces, open up the shower curtain and start chucking them towards the toilet. Good thing the dog wasn't with us that night...

Great. Pooping problem solved. Now she's a mess, the tub is a mess, and I'm standing in the poopy water I had to dump out. We all got cleaned up eventually and I forgot about the whole mess in the tub.

Until bathtime tonight. Oops. Got out the Comet and the scrub brush. So there I am with my rear end up in the air bending over the tub (big tub and little tub) with the dog up on her hind legs peering over and Isabelle standing on the other side of me peering over and trying to decide which animals from Noah's ark should be IN the bathtub helping clean. Thanks, I needed the help. Better the tub than the toilet, I guess.

I wish I'd had a camera. Or not. The dog, my backside, and naked little Isabelle (except for the diaper...learned that lesson the hard way...) all lined up along the tub. I'm sure we were cute. Oh, and did I mention that my bathroom has also been invaded by ants? So I'd have to stop and squish occasionally. Too bad ants don't eat poop.

Faith does, but that's a story for another day. Or not.

One of these days, I'm sure Isabelle will appreciate that I've written this all out for posterity. Or not.