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!
Let me give you a tip from a brand new parent of two little boys (coming direct from www.brotips.com):
That is about as true as a statement as you’ll ever read – here on He Shat She Shat or anywhere else. If you are the kind of male that won’t play pretend with your kid when he/she hands you a toy phone, you can go ahead and consider yourself a sucky parent. Period. If you are that person, there is still hope for you – but it is going to require that you don’t be such a piece of crap and learn to actually care about something other than yourself. You up for the challenge?
“Every person has a slightly different collection of bacteria and yeasts in their gut, and each organism contributes a slightly different nuance to the overall fragrance and volume of gas. Just as a fine wine keeps the palate stimulated with a variety of taste “notes,” each person’s unique batch of intestinal organisms lends shading to the stench of their farts. Your roommate (and my brother, apparently) simply have a collection of organisms that produce a horrid, malodorous, voluminous reek.”
“In 1997, Chester Weimer was granted patent No. 5593398 entitled “Protective underwear with malodorous flatus filter.” The undergarment has a pocket on the rear that has a replaceable activated charcoal packet, which the subject farts through. The sound and odor are muffled by passage through the filter. I’d suggest buying a pair for your roommate and see if they work. If they do, you’ll be living in a more fart-free environment. If they don’t you will have a hilarious story to tell your friends. Either way it’s win-win for you.”
I have to get me some of these underwears…
Not the sickest thing I have ever done. I personally have never done anything as sick as the story I am about to tell. A relative recently had a baby (who is freakin’ adorable, I might add). She toughed out the labor and delivery like a champ without any epidural. Unfortunately, there was some ripping. My guess is there was a lot of ripping, and tearing, and stitches. If any of you have had a wife have a baby, or given birth yourself, then you know that the weeks following birth are a bit sensitive.
Enter constipation. The crappy thing about giving birth and pregnancy is that it puts your body out of whack in a major way. This woman, who was already proned to constipation, became über constipated. One day she called me, only to have this conversation:
Relative: “I’ve been doing the sickest thing I have ever done.”
Me: “What’s that?”
Relative: “You know how I have been really constipated? Well, I didn’t want to push to hard and pop a stitch, so I just decided to reach up there and pull the poo out.”
Me: “So are you telling me you stuck your finger up your butt and dug your crap out? Was it squishy?”
Relative: “That’s exactly what I’m saying. It wasn’t squishy though. It was so hard that my finger barely made a dent in each nugget. I had to dig in there all the way up to my knuckles to get something out. I have actually done this about five times! No matter how many times I wash my hands after, but finger smells like poo!”
Me: “Why don’t you wear rubber gloves?”
Relative: “AH CRAP I didn’t think about that!”
Seriously. She has been digging her crap out with her bare fingers. It is amazing what having a baby will cause you to do, all for the love of a child. I wasn’t judging though – I could see her predicament. I’m just glad I have never had to do anything that nasty.