The Shittiest (Literally) Mom Experiences Ever

I’m going to get real with all of you for a second. Not real enough to pick a seriously mortifying image for this blog post, but real enough that you might get a visual going in your mind. A sympathetic grossed out visual.

Disclaimer: If baby poop grosses you out, look away! Save yourself! 

If you’re going to be a parent soon, or you are a parent currently, you have poop stories. If you don’t have them yet, you will. Epic poop stories. Blow outs of unforgettable proportions and bags of things sitting in landfills that you really couldn’t save.

These are my stories.

When my son was born, he was pretty independent. He hated the bassinet in my room. The only place he would actually sleep was in his crib in his room. For his feedings, I did a combination of feeding on demand and feeding him on a schedule. He was underweight much of his early life, so if he didn’t feed at least every three hours, I’d wake him.

Encounter #1: I try to keep my ex out of my stories. But since they are poop stories, it seems oddly fitting. So one Saturday morning when we were still together, we’re laying in bed trying to get some magic going. A good trick, but that’s beside the point. We have the baby monitor in our room. Alex is a few months old. He had an amazingly soft corkscrew curl fro going on. We were crazy OCD about not putting things like toys and pillows in his crib. So we’re laying there and we hear him cooing, laughing, and playing with something. Kinda like he’s banging against the rails in his crib. He sounds happy, we know there’s nothing in his crib, so we carry on. He sounds happy in a weird escalating sense. My ex goes, “What the heck is going on in there? It sounds like he’s building a pyramid.” We go in there and he has pooped tiny little piles everywhere. Almost like rabbit poop. They are in his hair, all around him, in between the railings, in the carpet under the crib. Everywhere. My child’s first real toy was his own crap. Getting it out of his hair was special.

Encounter #2: My ex left for work before 8am, and Alex wasn’t usually awake for the morning until 8am. So I’m home alone, and realize it’s getting later and Alex hasn’t made a peep. I go to wake him. I get to his crib and he’s making some weird motions with his mouth like he’s eating something. And he’s making a crinkled up face. I do the mom panic and go to remove whatever it is with my finger while wondering what the heck he could possibly have. I put my finger in his mouth to do the great reveal and I encounter something soft that reminds me of peanut butter. Then I smell something foul and realize it’s my finger. I freaked out. The most gentle way to continue to remove it was with my bare hands. Then I tried to rinse out his mouth with milk. While thinking, I don’t want this nipple back. I don’t. I don’t. I went to Google to find out if he was going to die. Yes, really. I called my ex at work with my emergency. My boy survived and went on to poop some more.

Sometimes when I tell this story, people are horrified that my kid ate poop. Imagine how horrified I was. People think,That would never happen to me. I’m a better parent than that. It takes two seconds. Raise your hand if you’ve wiped poo off your kid’s face. Yeah, hey there friend, I see you lurking. Good news: Poop smear/eating/hair conditioner  hasn’t killed anyone…that I know of.

Encounter #3: My ex and I took the baby to Arkansas for Thanksgiving one year to see the ex’s dad. We traveled with a play pen. Ya know, like you do. It was cold that time of year so Alex was put down for a nap in a sleeper with buttons all down the front and legs. It didn’t snap at the diaper area, just down the front and legs. He starts crying. I go to pick him up and I just can’t.even. I start calling for help. The ex comes in, takes one look, and actually runs down the hall screaming, “We need backup! Help us!” Somehow, he had a blowout that soaked up and through the sleeper, all into his hair again, and all over the play pen. Where do you even start with things like that? Goodbye, outfit. You were cute while you lasted.

Encounter #4: Stomach bugs. Do I even need to go there? Nothing like a kid freaking out and panicking because they have goop coming out both ends. They aren’t sure which end to aim where. May your strong stomach be with you when they aim the front end at the toilet and the back end just exists in space. I have seen blood, gore, vomit, and all kinds of poop. It’s part of my job description. But there’s one instance that comes to mind where I thought some tub, toilet, or trash can needed to become available because I was gonna lose breakfast. Also, helping your pukey poopy kids while being sick yourself is a version of hell I completely sympathize with because I’ve so been there.


I don’t expect you to share your crappy stories on the internet, but I just wanted to let you know I’ve been there and I feel you.

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