pooper scooper

WARNING: This entry is not for those who are easily quesied (that's a word, right?) or who get all bluggety bloop about poop. If you want a happy, warm and fuzzy read ... um, you may want to head elsewhere.

Now, for anyone still reading, here goes ...

I just used a baby spoon to scoop my son's diarrhea out of his diaper and into a specimen cup. I was THIS close to loosing my lunch (and dinner). Oh, the things the world asks a mommy to do (the daddy was hiding behind closed doors gagging at the mere thought of it all ... wiener!).

So, here's the deal. Twelve days ago Cooper came down with this whole not eating, not drinking and having diarrhea thing. He was cranky with a capital CRANK and bounced between our normally playful baby to a lethargic mess about every 10-15 minutes. He seemed to improve over the weekend, only to log six nasty diapers yesterday.

Now, nearly two weeks later, two calls to the nurse, three (yes, 3!!!) trips to the doc’s office and a handful of missed days at work, I am having to fill not one, not two, but a freakin’ five vials with poop for testing.

BLECK!!!

Upon hearing that unmistakable rumble in the diaper after dinner, there was a discussion, an actual debate, if you will, about which container to fill first!! Should we (meaning me) fill one of the three that have some kind of weird liquid in them, the one that needs immediate refrigeration or the one that requires that it be stuck in the freezer between Cooper’s Pedialite popsicles and the frozen chicken? (“We” went with the frozen one … it’ll last longer.)

Holy crap where has civilized conversation gone? Hurricanes? Nope. Politics? Nope. In our house, we talk shit … literally.

So, now I wait. I wait to hear the rumble. Then I grab another spoon and scoop, scoop, scoop the poop. Maybe I should call that guy from Dirty Jobs … this sooo has to qualify. Oh, and did I mention that the lab tech wants me to saran wrap Coop’s butt and make a hole in the front for his pickle to poke out AND then put on his diaper??? This is to supposedly help with collections. You've got to be shittin' me!

I just called work and let the powers that be know I'd be on poop watch tomorrow and would therefore be working from home. By far the most pathetic excuse for calling in ever ... well, if you don't count the time I called in sick on my third day at my first real job because I had sun poisoning from overdoing it in the tanning bed ... nice, clark, reaaaal nice.

Poop out.

p.s. The pics above are from one of the trips to the doc's office and of my "poop" project.