Get ready for a week-long dedication to baby blow out stories here on He Shat, She Shat! As parents, we recognize how much fecal matter becomes a part of your life. We will share with you our stories and hope you will share yours in the comments section:
It was a lovely trip to the zoo with my 9 month old. I love this age because they are old enough to really get the excitement of things and are no longer floppy and boring. Given this recent musculature development in my child I was able to do things I could never do before like carry him in one arm while he was upright, extend him over the younger elementary school children so he could see the Polar Bears, and of course, to ride him on my shoulders.
The ironic thing is that when it happened I was actually ducking for cover as a flock of geese had let loose a bombardment of excrement my way. As it was a warm summers day and my propensity to sweat were both in full force I didn’t think anything of it for a few moments. You would have thought that the smell would have triggered my brain but as many of you may know breastfed babies poo really does not smell at all.
It wasn’t until I felt it running down my collarbone and belly that I realized something was wrong. The blowout was occuring upon my neck and, being a concerned father, I had baby squished right against me as to prevent any possible falling. The waterfall of yellow seed blowout diarrhea poo was upon me, covering my entire torso and neck.
Aside from the misery of the lengthy trip home, wiping myself off with diaper wipes in a public place, and the knowledge that I was a terrible replacement for a diaper at least I can take solace in the fact that I wasn’t the only thing that was shat upon that trip. Wifey got a hairful of goose!
I love dogs, but I will never own one until I have a proper yard for it. Many people would agree with me on this, but for completely different reasons then my own. The common argument for not owning a dog in the city is that its inhumane to keep them in a tight space and that they need to be free to roam around and run and be an animal. I don’t really give a crap about that. What I DO give a crap about is the fact that owning a dog in the city requires that I pick up its feces with my hands. THAT is why I will never own a dog until I have a yard.
Seriously, what is more disgusting in today’s society then sitting there watching your dog take a dump and then reaching down with a plastic bag to pick it up? Maybe cleaning up after a baby – but its a BABY for heaven’s sake. A human child. This is a dog. It should be able to take a sweet dump in private (like the rest of us) and then have us clean it up with a shovel later when its hard and cold, not warm and squishy. I have had to do this a few times and feeling that warmth against my palm as my fingers dig into the squishy sides is absolutely wrong, and I’m ashamed that so many of us humans are willing to do it three or more times a day.