Ten days past Baby Arrival Day and a combination of the interrupted sleep cycles and crossing into the sheer unknown territory of babydom has done strange things to my mind.

For example, Ive come up with little tunes about the oddest things. These arent well thought out, just a few lines that keep popping into my head over and over.

Im a gaseous entity
gaseous is me.

Combined with,

I got butt-paste on my jelly butt.

Its amazing how you can sing these over and over in the wee hours of the morning. I imagine these to be sung by a grunge band version of Barney the dino, named after yet another baby observation: Wobbly Noggin.

Also, nothing really prepares you for the Adventures of Excrement that seem to go hand in hand with the new arrival. Ive had some strange encounters with poop in my time, but mostly with dogs.

Not to long ago Tanner had an episode that I will never forget. We were outside and he was doing his business but his business got stuck. There he was in full squat and the poop just wouldnt break loose. Now Tanner is a dog that is in denial of his bowl functions. They scare him, especially when they dont break loose nice and neatly and fall into the ground. This usually leaves him running in terror from whatever monstrosity he perceives is trying to find its way into his ass. Usually as he scampers away looking back to see what is trying to impale him, the offending poop breaks loose and flies off some place to await future discovery by my shoe.

This day was an exception. The poop did not break loose. It got longer, but did not let go. Tanner was now truly terrified and was running in circles on the end of his leash with this 8 long poop strand whippingaround behind him, scaring him even further. I was trying disparately to avoid the wild gyrations of the attached poop while at the same time keep some control of Tanner on the leash.

As this progressed I got into a little rhythm of movement whereby I could dodge the swinging poop. It occurred to me that something had gone seriously wrong with Tanners bowl functions and that I may have to grab the poop and yank it out of him. As I was steeling myself to do this, he stopped and started to squat again. Finally I saw what had happened. Out came an enormous blob of blue string. Tanner had managedto eat a large portion of one of his string based tug toys.

I write of this so that it is known that I was no stranger to poop. Or so I thought.

The other day I was changing Greyson. Id gotten rather decent at it in my short time doing it and was speedily changing away. Everything was going great. It was only a pee diaper, no big deal. As I was affixing the Velcro on his fresh diaper I head the eruption sounds that signaled a massive bowl movement had just taken place. I peek in, yep, dirty.

Okay, bad timing, but no big deal. Just take that diaper off and clean him up and put the clean diaper under him. At this point he decides to demonstrate for me the innateability of little boy babies to imitate fountains. As a geyser of pee sprays forth into the air, I grabbed a wet one and clamped down on his penis. However, at the same moment of the fountain display, he also pooped again. Luckily the diaper was at least in place if not attached. Unluckily, he spasmedin joy at the dual event and kicked his foot right into the freshly emerging poop and then sprang it back and got it all over the hand that was trying unsuccessfully to hold his feet from doing exactly that.

So there I was, one hand holding a wet one on the fountain the other grasping a clean foot and a poopy foot and trying not to spread anymore poop either from my hand or his foot to the clean foot. At this point I knew that defeat was imminentunless I called in re-enforcements. It appears that sometimes changing a newborn is a two person job.