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when you become a parent, your primary function in life becomes the care and nurturing of your child. translated, this means you deal with poop a lot. you clean up a lot of their poop. you talk about their poop. you discuss their poop in the casual way that you discuss what you did at work that day. "has she pooped today?" "was it runny?" "watery scrambled eggs?" it sounds horrible to you that don't have children, but it's not a big deal. you just don't want to deal with a constipated baby. i mean, come on, we all get cranky when we can't go. imagine being a little tyke and not being able to just get up, go to the kitchen, open the cabinet and get a bran muffin or something. you're the mommy and the daddy and that's part of your job, making sure baby is regular. it's just, as we all know, a part of life. it's a part of life that i can handle. however ... jerm pushed the poop-tolerance envelope this morning. that sounds pretty nasty, huh. he calls me on my way to work to celebrate the fact that our dear sweet little angel just pooped her first real turd. guess it was all those sweet potatoes. but that wasn't the offensive part. what kicked it was him asking if we should keep it and have it bronzed. i would laugh since it seems he was making a joke ... but you just never know with him ... also, somebody remind me to delete this entry before magnolia is old enough to read. and use the internet.
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