Five for Ten: Yes

May 18, 2010 at 3:44 am | Posted in Bun, Family, Five for Ten, Giggles | 32 Comments
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It’s the middle of the night. My newborn son has some tenacious hiccups. For the third night in a row. So. Instead of trying to write something new with the few brain synapses currently firing? I’m saying “yes” to recycling this post, one of my very first.

Hiccup. Hiccup. Hiccup.



I am a mom of small children. I stay home. I change diapers. And I am a pro. (Yes, you knew it was only a matter of time before I talked about poop … inevitable, sort of like the minivan in my future.) So, without further ado, here is my first poop post. I’m pretty excited.

Mayday, Mayday
The other night, my husband (who is, God bless him, primary kid-bather) took Lollipop and Giggles upstairs for their nightly bath. I heard the usual elephant-tromping, water-running, rubber-duck-throwing that usually ensues. Then I heard my husband’s distress signal.

He needed a wingman.

Quite capable of parenting solo, he could only have encountered one thing: stealth poop. Definition: the unexpected discovery of poop β€” usually in a diaper, but occasionally elsewhere β€” at an inopportune time.

Yes, stealth poop. In his haste to get in the tub and splash all the water out, Giggles had yanked down his diaper and inadvertently stepped in his poop. In the chaotic dash to the changing table, he then managed to smear it on his hands and my husband’s hands.

Enter Wingman
I arrived upstairs. Handed my husband a plastic bag for the 273 wipes he had used. Went to make sure Lollipop didn’t jump in the tub unattended.

And I laughed. I tried to keep it in. OK, I didn’t really try. It was funny. It might, just might, have been the highlight of my day.

Why? Because I’m certain I’ve been in that predicament, too. All alone. During the day. With no wingman. And it wasn’t so much funny as traumatic, so I’ve blocked it out. Plus, now, 7,000 diapers later, I know the secret to stealth poop …

Ask. Never forget to ask. “Giggles, do you have poop in your diaper?” And if he does, he will grin at you, eyes wickedly a’twinkle, and answer, “Yesh!”

Oh, yesh, indeed.

Have you ever encountered stealth poop? Or laughed at your partner in the middle of an, um, diaper dilemma? What child-rearing tasks have you said “yes” to so many time that you’re now an expert?


Read more about “yes” over at Momalom’s Five for Ten.



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  1. Oh Stacia, This made me laugh – and remember. I hope you get some sleep. Those beautiful newborns do take their toll. . . and smell so sweet. Um, except for the – you know – poop.

  2. Haha.

    When my son was between the ages of 12 and 18 months he would make him choke while eating. He would vomit every. single. meal. Horrible. But I had to say “yes” to cleaning that up all day every day.

  3. Stacia, you are so cute and funny. Stealth poop indeed. It’s been everywhere. EVERY WHERE. It’s been smeared and rubbed into things 10 minutes before I’ve even taken notice. To this day–three kids and a bazillion diapers later–I still laugh at how mad my husband gets over a poopy diaper. I mean one of the messy ones. And a boy-child who will not lay still but continues to thrash all about during the clean-up, threatening to smear poop across the entire house!

    I laugh. In my head. And I STAY OUT OF THE ROOM.

  4. Stealth poop. Wingman. Ah, darling, welcome. Congrats on your first poop post! A stamp of pride going out to you!

  5. Funny how much help our men need with the things we do all the time. But then again, I suppose I’d need help changing a tire!

  6. I was just remembering stealth poop yesterday, when my son was running around with no diaper and I was checking corners. πŸ™‚
    I love my husband, but he ALWAYS needs a wingman! Stealth poop or no.

  7. Such a cute post. Loved it.

    Get some sleep!

  8. Oldie but goodie, as they say. I wasn’t there from the beginning, so these flashback posts are nice for me to catch a glimpse of what I missed before.

    The daddy is the go-to bath guy in our house too. And yes, I’m sure we all have a poop story like that. It’s a parental rite of passage. Mine involves pooping in the tub and when it happened to My Guy, he yelled for me and I walked in to find a grown man holding a baby aloft, wide-eyed, looking completely lost. I had to laugh.

    It happened to me too, and like you, I was by myself. Lucky for these daddies who usually have their wingwoman πŸ™‚

  9. Hysterical. We’ve all dealt with it haven’t we? And WHY oh WHY is it that the men have to use so many wipes anyway? It’s as if they think each wipe is only good for one tiny touch to the skin and then they’re in need of another!

    Loved this. Hope you’re hanging in with your tiny Bun!

  10. i may have stepped in my share. the other day my sweet little girl pooped in the middle of the dining room floor!

    This blog is one of my favorite finds on five for ten. I’ll keep coming back even when it’s over.

  11. Hi Stacia, loved this post! I only have one but have encountered stealth poop. It’s so true that all we need to do is ask and we will get an answer. Women seem to know this more intuitively than men. But yes, my husband is also quite capable of solo parenting. Probably more so than me.

    A pleasure meeting you through Momalom’s 5-4-10.

  12. My daughter is still saying “no” every time I ask her if she’s pooped. Hoping soon I’ll be hearing more “yesh!” But not too much….

  13. Ha! This is hilarious!! We (I) have had our share of stealth poop around here. And it probably happens more during bath time than any other time, which is also my husband’s domain. Smart kids.

  14. We had ‘explosive poo’ in our house with my first born. It would happen like this: there was a poopy diaper. We’d wait. Then go change it. But the wait had been too short, so with a free bottom, she would poop 5 feet across the room. Seriously. The first time, I was on my own and covered in poop. The room was covered in poop. the only clean thing – my one month old. The second time, we were unfortuately in a hotel room. Yuck. Then we got pretty smart – you’ve got to wait a little longer. But it was hilarious, and we even made up a song about it….
    Oh, she’d hate to hear that.

  15. I had the floating variety in the tub.

    Shrieks from the tub participants.

    Pleas to GET IT OUT!

    I laughed.

  16. Stealth poop is the worst! Though most hysterical, almost always πŸ™‚

  17. Roaring just roarding. Mostly because I know just what you mean. I remember my first such poop, in a public washroom. Would you believe that I had one wipe? It was an EXPLOSION. No wipes. Poor 4 month old bum had to be cleaned up using brown paper towel. Boy did he howel. I’m sure someone thought I was beating the poor child. All this only to discover that the spare outfit I had packed? WAY TOO SMALL. Needless to say, I went home.

  18. Oh, yes. Stealth poop. Talk about a weapon of mass destruction. The code blue call in our house is “Backup!” yelled by Husband or me from one room to the other.

    Good luck with the hiccups, Stacia. Sending somnolent wishes to Bun!

  19. Oh poop, does it ever end?!? Yesterday I spent the afternoon cleaning up an explosion in my daughter’s room that had occurred at nap time. So thank you for sharing your own stories!

  20. Ahh, the stealth poop distress call. I know that all too well.

    One time, when my son was maybe 18 months old or so, we had a nightly ritual of naked time, because when he was nine months, he started to get eczema pretty bad on his little hiney.

    On this particular night, I thought I saw a stain on the floor, and another, etc. Not thinking anything of it, I went into his room to grab a pair of jammies for him, and on the other side of the chair, was a giant turd. Sitting there on the floor. I probably wouldn’t have noticed it, because it was in a spot that was slightly hidden. He didn’t hide it on purpose, but needless to say, I screamed for the hubs to high tail it up stairs, with something to sanitize the carpet.

  21. Thank you for writing about poop. There is so much poop in motherhood. I am still semi-traumatized by poops found *in* baths.

  22. I love the idea of the wingman, though there were times I needed one. Normally it was baby in tub, me washing baby, and I realize I’ve forgotten something essential. There were so many things to remember. Can’t leave the baby. This is when a wingman with good hearing is essential.

  23. I’m still laughing, especially at this part, “…the 273 wipes he had used.” Yes, yes, yes!

  24. Stealth poop. Love it. (And I would’ve laughed, too.) Good for you for saying Yes to what you needed in the moment!

  25. The stealth poop has gotten us MANY MANY times… and at least 9/10 times times it’s my kids πŸ˜‰

  26. We were always ambushed by the tub floaters. It was so often that we began to know the face …. but she NEVER made the face until she sat in the tub. Gah! However, I can clean poop out of a tub like no other.

    Also, I had the brown paper towel experience, too! Those brown paper towels were NOT made for baby bum wiping. πŸ™‚

  27. Too cute. Loved it. I however cannot share any stories cause it has been way too long since my kids were little enough to have diaper issues.

    But it did make me think back to some pretty funny pooping times.
    Thanks for that.

  28. I have been so, so absent from the internet! CONGRATULATIONS! I can’t believe I haven’t said so already… Hope you and the new guy are settling in well!

  29. Stealth poop is the WORST! Been there, man. Been there.

    Don’t take this the wrong way considering the cirmcumstances – but I’m so happy to be done with diapers!

  30. Been there, done that, got the emotional scars!

  31. Haha, this made me laugh out loud. And, like so many other, I definitely can relate! Thanks for sharing. I’m a sucker for those poop stories. πŸ™‚

  32. 273 wipes. ha ha.

    Yes I remember stealth poop. Wait until you get to the poop admiration society. That’s where you have to admire every single bathroom visit and we spend about 1/2 hr admiring and analyzing the poop in the toilet.

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