holy crap, or the one where i decide to have a beer in the middle of the day
WARNING: This may be overly graphic for some. There may be repeated use of the word "poop" and it's various synonyms. Iffin' you aren't into a gnarly poo saga I suggest that you move on to another blog.
Got it?
You've been warned.
There's still time to click on another link.
Still here? Fine.
Today had all of the makings of a wonderful day. The weather is lovely. The boy was in a stellar mood despite extremely limited sleep last night. The husband is coming home from his week long business trip this evening. I managed to get a shower AND dry my hair. We had plans to go to the local Greek Food Festival (Yummers!!) with my good friend Court (Hi Court!) and it was shaping up to be a fabulous day. Cut to the food fest. Bex is kicked back in his ride and starts to fuss. Then he starts to scream. Court and I make a quick run to the baklava booth to buy some pastry and then high tail it outta there since we are mid baby meltdown. The boy screams all the way to Court's house. He screams all the way home. Despite a full belly and a clean dry diaper he continues to scream. He has no fever. He isn't bleeding. And yet he still screams. He must be tired, right. No dice. He vehemently objects to napping. He fights and struggles and refuses to sit or lay down. He claws at his pants and suddenly I begin to get the hint. I remove the offending shorts and decide to change the diaper but it is still clean and dry. WTF? Then the boy grabs hold of the side of the changing table and bears down like he is giving birth. All the while, still screaming. Constipation, people. Constipation the likes of which I hope never to experience personally. Screaming and clawing and gnashing of teeth continued for almost four hours. Yes, I called the doctor. Several times, in fact. My mom, bless her, went to the store and brought me glycerin suppositories and milk of magnesia. By the time the meds arrived we were on the brink of the ER. The instructions were to give him the milk of magnesia and wait about 15 minutes. If nothing happened then we were to move on to the glycerin and then later the ER should there be no progress. Um... I am afraid of Milk of Magnesia. Scared, I tell you. That stuff works. Damn near instantaneously in certain doses. I almost googled it to find an explanation of the mechanics of its method but decided I would rather not know. We avoided the ER and the suppository, not that you asked, because the dude managed to defy the laws of physics and poop something that was roughly the size of my arm. An arm, people. An arm!! As in the appendage to which your hand is affixed. Dear Lord, the horror. I'm not sure but think I actually saw part of his colon emerge. (Insert your own gagging noise here.) Of course, since he somehow managed to poop an arm I suppose that is not particularly surprising. Blehhhh!! Everything seems to be back in its proper place now so no need to worry.
The little man is now blissfully napping after what I'm certain were several hours of excruciating pain. I'm having a beer. If you know me then you'll understand the gravity of that statement as I pretty much never drink beer.
Despite the fact that my teenage son will likely disown me for ever having dared to share a poo story with so public a forum, I felt that you might need to share in my trauma. An arm. AN ARM! Oh. My. God.
Got it?
You've been warned.
There's still time to click on another link.
Still here? Fine.
Today had all of the makings of a wonderful day. The weather is lovely. The boy was in a stellar mood despite extremely limited sleep last night. The husband is coming home from his week long business trip this evening. I managed to get a shower AND dry my hair. We had plans to go to the local Greek Food Festival (Yummers!!) with my good friend Court (Hi Court!) and it was shaping up to be a fabulous day. Cut to the food fest. Bex is kicked back in his ride and starts to fuss. Then he starts to scream. Court and I make a quick run to the baklava booth to buy some pastry and then high tail it outta there since we are mid baby meltdown. The boy screams all the way to Court's house. He screams all the way home. Despite a full belly and a clean dry diaper he continues to scream. He has no fever. He isn't bleeding. And yet he still screams. He must be tired, right. No dice. He vehemently objects to napping. He fights and struggles and refuses to sit or lay down. He claws at his pants and suddenly I begin to get the hint. I remove the offending shorts and decide to change the diaper but it is still clean and dry. WTF? Then the boy grabs hold of the side of the changing table and bears down like he is giving birth. All the while, still screaming. Constipation, people. Constipation the likes of which I hope never to experience personally. Screaming and clawing and gnashing of teeth continued for almost four hours. Yes, I called the doctor. Several times, in fact. My mom, bless her, went to the store and brought me glycerin suppositories and milk of magnesia. By the time the meds arrived we were on the brink of the ER. The instructions were to give him the milk of magnesia and wait about 15 minutes. If nothing happened then we were to move on to the glycerin and then later the ER should there be no progress. Um... I am afraid of Milk of Magnesia. Scared, I tell you. That stuff works. Damn near instantaneously in certain doses. I almost googled it to find an explanation of the mechanics of its method but decided I would rather not know. We avoided the ER and the suppository, not that you asked, because the dude managed to defy the laws of physics and poop something that was roughly the size of my arm. An arm, people. An arm!! As in the appendage to which your hand is affixed. Dear Lord, the horror. I'm not sure but think I actually saw part of his colon emerge. (Insert your own gagging noise here.) Of course, since he somehow managed to poop an arm I suppose that is not particularly surprising. Blehhhh!! Everything seems to be back in its proper place now so no need to worry.
The little man is now blissfully napping after what I'm certain were several hours of excruciating pain. I'm having a beer. If you know me then you'll understand the gravity of that statement as I pretty much never drink beer.
Despite the fact that my teenage son will likely disown me for ever having dared to share a poo story with so public a forum, I felt that you might need to share in my trauma. An arm. AN ARM! Oh. My. God.
