I have only been a father for two and a half months, and I’ve quickly come to the realization that my life now revolves around poop- I am not speaking figuratively either. Every activity of my day either involves thinking about poop, cleaning poop, preparing for poop or trying to avoid poop[1].
My daughter poops three to four times a day, I have a house dog that needs to be taken out to poop two to three times a day, I need to poop at least twice a day, and on top of that my wife has some crazy poop story she needs to tell me at least once a day. It’s a semi miracle that I am able to function in normal society with so much poop floating around my mind.
—Avoiding poop—
My wife and I have a Chihuahua that poops out of spite (yes, there is such a thing as pooping out of spite). We live in an apartment so we cannot leave him alone because he will bark and whine the whole time we are gone- so if we go, he goes[2]. But before we continue there are a couple of things about him you should know. When Ash (our dog) was a puppy he contacted parvo and had to spend a weekend at the Veterinarians getting treatment. From what I know, parvo treatment is very invasive with lots of needles, so ever since then Ash has had anxiety issues. Whenever he gets in the car, he starts to shiver like he has just been attacked (I kid you not)[3].
My wife and I will usually drop him off at my parents house, and no matter what we do to stop him, he will poop in the center of the living room to spite us for leaving him alone. He does the same thing at my mother in laws house, poop in the center of the living room no matter how many people are around. It has gotten to the point that I will stand with him on the grass before we enter the house so he can poop, but he never does. He saves it until he’s in the center of the living room, telling us what he thinks about being left alone[4]. Ash’s pooping is so extreme that if I walk out of my apartment and no one else is inside he will poop on the rug out of spite. As I mentioned earlier I spend my days trying to avoid poop (I always figured if someone was going to poop on my stuff out of spite it would be my wife. But in spite of the anxiety issues and revenge poops, he’s really a charming dog.
—Thinking about and cleaning poop—
I have cleaned so many poops in the last two and a half months that I’ve become oblivious to the whole thing. Up until the baby was born if I were to ever get poop on my hand it would be a traumatic experience. I wouldn’t let that hand do anything important for at least a few days. Now, whenever I get my daughters poop on my hands, I think it’s kind of cute. I never rush to wipe it off, and am at peace with the whole situation. I believe the amount of times I’ve had poop on my hands has tripled since the baby was born.
I vividly remember the first diaper change, which was the hardest. The nurse changed the first couple of diapers, and every time she did I would watch and take mental notes because I knew my diaper changing duties were about to start. Pin the legs, remove the diaper while wiping, close up the diaper, wipe, and put a clean diaper on- seems simple enough. I had the steps down, so all that was left to do was wait for the next diaper.
The diaper came very quickly and I was ready. I pinned her legs, removed her diaper, and the first thing I did was accidentally get poop on my finger. It’s been two and a half months and hundreds of diapers later, and my main goal through out the day is still to not get poop on my finger.
—Preparing for poop—
As a parent preparing for poop becomes your number one priority. It is so extreme, you have a whole bag ready for the occasion: extra clothes (because she is definitely going to poop on the ones she is wearing), extra wipes (because the poop is always more then you expect), extra diapers, plastic bags (because she is going to poop in a place where there are no trash cans), and a changing mat. The diaper bag has more gadgets then batman’s utility belt.
My daughter is still only two and a half months old and she’s already pooped in the weirdest places: the parking lot of Hollywood Park Casino, at a funeral, and in the lobby of the cheesecake factory. As a parent you come to realize very quickly that you are no longer on your own schedule, you follow your child’s demands. No matter how prepared you are, your child is going to throw you for a loop and you will be stuck in the parking lot of the Hollywood park casino with a smelly diaper and no trash can in sight[5]. The unpredictability is the beauty of being a parent. You are on uncharted waters, in weird situations, but having your daughter smile at you while you have poop on your hand washes everything away. Being a parent is a difficult job, but it’s the best job I have ever had and even though my life is full of poop, it is far from crappy[6].
[1] This is the dirty little secret of parent hood; dirty because it smells, and a secret because books and television conveniently forget to mention the obscene amount of time you spend changing diapers. I would love to see an episode of Friends where Ross and Rachael argue over who’s changing the next diaper
[2] Not only do I carry around a little girl dressed in pink, with a pink diaper bag, and pink stroller- I also walk the streets with a sweater wearing Chihuahua in my arms. I’m not sure what I’ve become, but man do I need a beer.
[3] You could take the details of Ash’s life and put them in a 90’s life time movie staring Tiffany Amber Thiessen and I swear nobody would know the difference. Actually I think they already made that movie, it’s called ‘She fought alone’, I’m serious, IMDB it. Just replace Tiffany Thiessen with Ash and you have his life story http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0114419/ . And yes that’s Brian Austin Green, he’s married to Megan Fox now you know?
[4]At this point Ash is one more poop away from being blacklisted from both my mother and mother in laws house. I don’t think he really cares either; he’s been blacklisted from fancier places i.e. the Pet Co on Wilshire.
[5] This actually happened. We had our daughter at the race track (it’s never too early to learn how to handicap a horse) and we were in the parking lot about to drive away, when she started to cry excessively. We stopped the car and my wife started to feed her, but she continued to cry. Our next thought was maybe she needed a diaper change- which she did. After changing the diaper we realized that there were no trash cans in sight. I didn’t want to leave the diaper under some ones car, which is one hell of a surprise to find as you are driving away. I really didn’t want to walk the diaper into the casino (it smelled of breast milk and death). So I just put it in our trunk, and proceeded to completely forget about it, until 4 days later when the back of our car smelled like a sewer.
[6] Help me, please! It really is crappy (I’m positive that comment just landed me on the couch tonight)
