Amazingly, I slept until 5:30 before waking up for my bottle. In fact, Dad kind of forced the issue by waking me up, since he liked to leave for work by 6. There go my crazy parents thinking I’m sleeping too much again. Sheesh.
So, as you may recall, I hadn’t pooped since Sunday (day 55). Mom asked Dad to call the doctor to figure out when they should start worrying, and indeed he called and left a message first thing in the morning. All morning goes by and my bowels are clearly the only thing on Mom’s mind. While I napped after my 8:00 breakfast, Mom surfed the web, trying to figure out how worried she should be about my non-poop.
And to make matters worse I really didn’t feel like eating much. I mean, not to get too graphic, but when you have four days of, um, processed food, in your system, it gets kind of backed up and whatnot. Anyway, I barely ate at 11, 12, or 1:30 and Mom’s stress level was on the rise.
Then, at 2:30 pm on Thursday, May 08, 2008, the unimaginable happened. I was sitting on Mom’s lap when Mom noticed that I was starting to move my bowels. Mom’s a smart one and she immediately starting moving toward the changing pad. In the past, Mom has had helped me out by changing me mid-poop. So she was standing by, at the ready. By the time made it the five or so feet from her desk chair to the couch, there was a ring of poop visible through my clothes around my belly.
Mom quickly made a detour and headed straight for the bathroom and she set me on my little bath sling in the bathtub — with my clothes on. Mom’s plan was to first wash me with my clothes on (so as to get the poopy outfit off of me so that she could give me a bath). But before she could even turn on the water, she realized that no amount of clothed bathing would get all of this poop off my onesie.
So, drastic times call for drastic measures. Mom spread a receiving blanket on the bathroom rug and put me on the floor. Mom ran out of the bathroom and brought in wipes, two diapers, and … scissors. Like me, you’re probably thinking, “scissors?” Mom then cut me out of my onesie!
This surgical manuever succeeded in getting the onesie off me without having to pull the poop-stained clothes over my face, but it left a trail of poop all over my stomach, back, legs, and arms. Mom then changed my diaper and used about a dozen wipes just to get me clean enough to get back in the bathtub.
So, that was my day. I hung out with Dad in the park while Mom went to yoga and then Uncle Marty came by, but nothing compares to letting loose four days’ worth of creamy, smelly, runny poop!
margaretyagan 
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