PooGrin | Work at home mom blog – WAHM blog

How to make turdle soup

Posted on 06. Nov, 2009 by Deb Plunkett in Adventures with poop

Well, since we’re kicking off this blog by unabashedly sharing the details of our little squirts’ squirts (which they will no doubt loathe us for later), let’s talk about catching poop in your hands. Yup, bare-handed crap catching. If you’ve been a mom for any amount of time you’ve probably already done it; if you’re a new mom and yet to do so, get off your high horse – it will happen, trust me.

Much like the story of our original stopped-up poogriner, Tavin, giving birth to his lovely twins, my darling little one had a slightly less traumatic constipation incident – however, the better part of our story is what happened once the antagonistic turd finally set itself free. The bathtub trick does work, by the way – softens ‘em right up and knocks ‘em lose every time!

I can’t remember exactly how old Chloe was when this happened but I want to say maybe around four to five months.  The day went something like this: grunt, strain, turn purple, tear up… mom checks the diaper – no poop. One hour later: grunt, strain, turn purple, tear up… mom checks the diaper – no poop. Repeat, repeat, you get the picture.

A frantic trip to the grocery store for prune juice and a failed attempt to force feed it to a baby that at the time absolutely refused to take a bottle, and another round of grunt, strain, turn purple, tear up, no poop. It’s now 6:30 at night and time for a bath.

As predicted, the relaxing bath gets things “flowing”, finally. I see my little angel rocking that funny squished face and the last thing I want to do is interrupt the crap she’s been trying take for an entire day so I just let happen. Five seconds later, my baby is sitting happily in her tub with Tootsie Rolls swimming around her.

So what do I do? I scoop them up in my bare hands and start yelling for my husband to come and frickin’ help me!   The toilet is clear on the other side of the bathroom and the only thing a mom could do that would be worse than marinating her child in poop would be to walk away and leave her beloved unattended in the tub, right? So I hold the prize and yell.

Hubby (finally) walks into the bathroom to find his daughter happy as can be (sweet relief!) and his exasperated wife sitting there with a fresh, sopping number two cupped in her hands.  I tried to pass it to him for some reason but, yeah, he was having none of that.  I think I just wanted him to be initiated with me!

Anyway, we cleaned it all up and laughed about it later but the moral of the story is this:  when the shit starts to fly just put your hand out and catch it (and know you’re not alone)!