Pooty MaGoo
I’m starting to fear that face. You know the one: eyebrows furrowed, nostrils
flared, forehead reddening and demonic grunting noises exuding from what only
seconds ago was your sweet baby.
At first it was kind of cute. “Oh look honey, she’s trying real hard. How adorable!” We even took a few videos of her trying to go
number two because we found it was funny, and somehow sweet. Perfect! We thought. Now we’ll have some material
to work with when the time comes to give her wedding toast!
Of course, as any seasoned mama knows, this stays cute for about as long as we can remember where we last put our keys.
I remember having baby showers, and being so excited by all the little, pink outfits she would wear. I imagined myself bringing her around town while everyone surrounding me oooed and aaahed. “My,” they would say, “What a beautiful baby…and such trendy layette!” I would thank them graciously, and walk on until I reached the next pack of adoring grandmas.
Alas, that is not my reality. Every charming and fashionable piece of attire, almost down to the last onesie, is now adorned with a massive brownish-yellowish and sometimes greenish explosion mark.
That’s right. Her clothes have fallen victim to Pooty MaGoo.
This brings up many questions, I know. First, why not try a different diaper? To which I answer: we’ve tried. And I’m learning it’s not as much a matter of quantity (though believe me, there are times) as it is the force with which she does her business.
The second, and maybe more obvious question: Pooty Ma-Wha? I know. It is ridiculous. I used to cringe at the sight of mommies speaking baby language and their gurgling toothless wonders, thinking: shoot me if I ever act that way in public. Now I have named my baby's shit. It’s low. Really low.
Well, I’ve never been one to back away from fear. So I suppose for now I will conquer this
maternal challenge by loading up on stain sticks and hoping that next time she
Pooty MaGoos, it will be after daddy’s home from work.
This is an original Rocky Mountain Moms Blog post. When Brie is not busy coming up with new names for her daughter's fecal matter, she can be found making light of things on her blog: Brie's Blunderings.
Follow Technorati