It Wouldn't Be a Mom Blog Without a Story About Poop...

OK, so I have had a traumatic experience, and who better to share it with than all of you lovely readers?! I am sure you are going to love this story. Although, I do have to warn you...there is a lot of poop coming at ya. Well, actually, it came at me, but you know what I mean...so proceed with caution. The "ick" factor might be  is pretty high.
Before I begin my tale, I just have to put it out there that I didn't know how awesome we had it in the poopy-diaper department when we were exclusively breastfeeding. Well, since we have started solids, things have become a whole lot smellier, messier and all around grosser. Hubby has had a particularly hard adjustment to the new poop situation. It's really gross, there is no denying it. 
So, we had just given Peanut an afternoon bath. Hubby was about to jump in the shower, so we set up the Jolly Jumper and Peanut was bouncing away happily, laughing and cooing to himself. I was reading on the bed beside him, when all of a sudden I heard some loud poop-related noises. I could tell from the sound that no good was going to come from this situation, but I have learned my lesson of going in too early, and it never ends well for me in those instances. So, I decided to bide my time, waiting for the inevitable conclusion of the poop symphony. It didn't take long before I heard even more disturbing noises, so I looked up and then I knew my world was about to get pretty darn awful for the next little bit. 
Because there was poop streaming down Peanuts legs (he was not wearing pants...only a onesie). Not only that, but his hand was covered, and he was still bouncing, which meant it was getting sprayed (dropped? dripped? plopped?) onto the carpet with every giggly bounce. I sat in horror staring at the veritable destruction of poop. Then it occurred to me that Peanut's hands are most usually in his mouth at most times during the day, and at the moment his one hand was covered in grossness, and it was only a matter of seconds before that hand made it's way to that cute little mouth...so I jumped out of the bed and pinned his hand to his thigh, covering my hand in the smelly awfulness as well. I yelled for help from Hubby, and we took him together into the tub. Hubby stripped the Jolly Jumper harness and his onesie off, and we held him up and hosed him off with the shower head. I feel the need to add here that this wave of poop was particularly offensive stench-wise. Hubby was having a hard time keeping his lunch down. Although he worked quickly and efficiently, as I had seen him eyeing up my poo-hand, and knew he was terrified of suffering a similar fate. 
For Peanut's part, he was pleased as punch. Suddenly we were giving him ANOTHER bath (two in one day!! Huzzah!), and bathtime is sure a lot of fun. 
I had voiced my opinion on Facebook that "pooplosion" was not a strong enough word to describe the magnitude of this event. A friend of mine says she calls them "poonamis". I could not think of a better word to describe it, because it certainly wreaked havoc and destruction upon everything in it's path. 
So, after tossing pretty much everything in the washer on the 2 hour "sanitize" cycle, cleaning the carpet, and having a family shower with disinfecting soap, we were ready to mentally block the event from our minds. 
Sometimes babies are gross. This was one of those times. 

Excuse the blurry phone pic...although I am sure you are happy I spared you photographic evidence of the poonami. You're welcome.
:)