What is it with our fascination with poop, as mothers? I will never fully understand the importance of diaper contents, but have fallen prey to the “trend”- I examine the contents of diapers. Every. Single. Diaper. After two years of diapers (and two babies!) I fully realize the humor in the phrase, “shit happens!”. And really. Shit does happen. But that doesn’t mean you should eat it, right?
“We don’t eat poop!”
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve uttered a ‘we do not’ phrase on the topic of poop. We don’t eat it, play in it, or sniff it if we can help it. A friend of mine once commented on my horrified retelling of a poop-painting fiasco. She said three words I never want to hear in conjunction with a bodily function again-
Oh, the horror!!
If there is one thing I aspire to teach my children by the time they are adults, it is this: WE DO NOT PLAY WITH POOP!!!
I fear that I have been mentally scarred by the amount of poop I have had on or around me. When my daughter was younger, a disgusting bit of irony occurred that to this day, no one knows about. I cleaned my daughter’s butt, and a few minutes later after a thorough handwashing, was eating a twix bar. Upon finishing the chocolate, there was a smudge of brown under my fingernail. I assumed it was chocolate and licked it off.
Long story short, it wasn’t chocolate.
And so, although I may frequently yell “We don’t eat poop”, I, too have been victim to the poop eating craze. Accidentally, but poop is poop.
Yes, being a mother has forever changed me. My gross-out factor has certainly decreased. It takes much more to disgust me now than it did two years ago. But in these past two years, I’m afraid I’ve been scarred forever. Help? (: