Talkin' shit (literally)

As we are officially off breast milk and on formula now and it is making a WORLD of difference thus far.  Things aren't perfect, but they are incredibly improved.  Less screaming.  More smiles.  Less grousing and grumping.  More play.  Nice.  

As part of this switch to formula, the gastroenterologist wanted a bunch of blood work, a urine sample and multiple stool samples.  For the urine samples they at least gave us a bag that adheres to his skin so there is literally nowhere else the urine could go.  But, for the stool samples, they provided us with 4 plastic 'dixie' cups with lids and asked that we get 'approximately 1 gram in each.'  If a baby eats no solids, they poop no solids.  So, we (and the lab techs we asked) were mystified as to how one might collect such a thing.

Cut to Friday morning.  As I get out of the shower I hear Tia asking for help.  I walk in the nursery to see her holding up what can only be described as a shit covered baby who also has a shit covered baggy attached to his front and she is wanting me to grab a piece of plastic cutlery so that I might scrape off enough for a few samples.  And that is how I ended up spending my Friday morning: using a plastic spoon to scrape poop off my son into a Dixie cup while he was being held aloft over his changing pad.  If that is not the definition of love, what is?

Then, tonight, while I was bathing him for the second time (it was a messy day) he was laughing ang playing until I heard him fart, followed by a few bubbles, and then it looked like an octopus squirting ink while fleeing from a shark.  I couldn't really do anything but laugh until tears came out of my eyes (and then hose him off with the shower sprayer).  

Other than lots of pooping, we got to meet a bunch of our fellow neighborhood gentrifiers at a  gathering for all the new (or relatively new) parents.  There were minimally 8 babies/toddlers there from not more than 10 square blocks around.  It was quite amazing.  Perhaps equally amazing were how many pretty rancid stories there were about each house's history.  Lots of drug dealers, crazies, and even a guy who evidently used to shoot target practice in his basement.  Lets just say the neighborhood is definitely (at least by my definition) changing for the better.  Good to see so many young families in the neighborhood.  Up with families, new businesses, and improved houses.  Down with the whole indoor shooting thing.  

More to come as always.