The Adventures of Syd and Sam: January 2009

I bet that title got your attention, didn't it...

I was working out in the yard this morning, while the kids played in their sandbox. As I was pulling weeds, the distinct, pungent aroma of cat poop assaulted my nose. I started laughing to myself as many thoughts randomly went through my head. Not that cat poop is all that funny, it was just the thought that once you become a parent, your life seems to revolve around that smelly substance called "poop."

When you have a baby, one of the first things the nurses and/or lactation consultants talk to you about is how many times your baby should be pooping per day, along with color and consistency. If your baby fails to produce the correct number of dirty diapers, you worry. You actually look forward to dirty diapers! You examine the contents quite thoroughly...is it the right color...is it too runny...is it too hard...wait! is my baby pooping too much? Then, it's "How did that poop shoot all the way up the baby's back?" You get through the infant stage and things seem to even out...you feel like you've got a handle on your baby's frequency, color and consistency.

But, then they start eating solid food and you get to start all over again! Some foods cause massive blow outs, while others cause major constipation. You hear all kinds of things from all kinds of well meaning people. Most advice just contradicts everything you just heard from the last person. You start to just plain dread your baby's poop. They always have a nasty diaper just before you are supposed to go somewhere or make one right when you arrive. And who hasn't been caught off guard, away from home with no extra outfit? You carry lots of diapers and wipes and those scented bags to put the little stink bombs into so that you don't pollute the entire building with the smell.

They finally get old enough to start using the potty. Now, you just have to the wipe their bottom, which is far better than digging that nasty stuff out of all their chubby little creases. The only problem: they want to wipe themselves now...they want to help! Now there is poop on the toilet, the kid, on you and on other random places. You start to plan things, like outings or naps, around when your child poops, so that you won't have to deal with this somewhere other than home.

You get together with friends...what subject always comes up? POOP! It is absolutely amazing how is becomes a topic of conversation, even when the kids aren't around. Somehow, it just makes its way into the conversation. You have to be careful around friends that don't have kids, since they don't share the same enthusiasm about the subject. They really don't want to know about the latest blow out, the best remedy for constipation or any other poop related topic. But, it sure is amusing to gross them out! Poop even comes up at dinner. John will ask me about my day and somehow, almost every night, something comes up about poop, rather it be human or animal. It's a good thing that he's used to it and can continue to eat his dinner. However, it is good to note that it is best not to talk about diarrhea while eating refried beans...

So, my kids are getting older. I still wipe both their bottoms, but the mess factor is decreasing a great deal. But, now I have to worry more about them stepping or sitting in poop! Before they can play in the backyard, I have to get a shovel and pick up all of Taco's poop. The kids wander around the yard, pointing out each little pile, making sure that I don't miss any. I'm always pretty sure that I've got it all, but my darling little Sam always manages to find that one last pile and inadvertently step in it. Then, he tries to get it off of his shoe and/or take his shoe off before notifying me of the situation. Which leads to poop in a whole lot more places than just his shoes. There is bird poop on the swing set, so I have to get a rag and wipe it off. We don't own a cat, but apparently our yard is the neighborhood litter box...there is cat poop in all the planters, in the garden, you can smell it pretty much everywhere. The sandbox has a lid, so that there is at least one area of dirt for the kids to play in that doesn't come with little surprises! Both of the kids have found what I like to call "kitty roca" in the dirt and both of them, at some time or another have actually handed it to me. Lots and lots of soap later, I hope that this last lecture about not picking up poop will stick! When Sydney was maybe two years old, she pretended to eat poop, which led to a long discussion about why we don't eat poop. To this day, if you talk about poop in front of her, she says, "Don't eat poop. It makes you sick!"

So you may wonder, how is it that I smelled cat poop, started laughing and then decided to write all about poop? Well, I had already wiped two bottoms (better make that three) this morning, had picked up mushy little piles of dog poop, cleaned it off of two Diego shoes, wiped bird poop off the slide and a swing and was having to smell cat poop while I pulled weeds. And it was only 11am. I knew that there was so much more poop in store for me!

Ok, I'm done. I'm all "pooped" out!

One last question: What are we all going to talk about after our kids are grown up?

We got up Christmas morning and opened more presents!

Sam loved his new puppy.

Sydney had been adamant for weeks that she didn't like Santa Claus and that she didn't want him to come to her house. She changed her mind when she opened the "Sleeping Beauty" movie that she had been begging for...Santa scored a few points with that one.

We had fun opening our stockings.

Daddy being silly!

This plate was my favorite gift. Sydney made it at school. We thought she did such a nice job!

Next, we headed to Mimi and Grandpa's house. Sydney and Sam took turns wearing the Santa hat and saying, "Ho Ho Ho!"

We opened more gifts.

The work bench was a hit. We put it out in the garage and the kids "work" in the garage with Daddy.

After naps, we headed to Aunt Connie and Uncle Ron's house. We got to visit with lots of family. The kids really liked playing with baby Dylan. Sydney loved holding him.