Cheerleaders of Shit

Yes, it has finally come down to this. These days, Mae and I are officially Cheerleaders of Shit.

We've gotten quite adept at being parents. Considering Jesse is only 5-weeks old, we've pretty much got his major signals down to pat. That fake-ish sounding cry means he wants to eat. The real cry complete with tears means he wants to eat NOW! But when he does that hysterical-kick-and-scream-complete-with-tears-and-quivering-lips cry, that means he's gonna poop.

We'll rush him to his changing pad, remove his diapers and wait. And that's when we'll do our grunts and groans to egg him on. "Nngggggghh! Come on boy. Do it! Do it!" Both of us, in unison. Like cheerleaders. Hahhahha!

Here's the thing: Just when he's about to go, he's all quite and cooperative. That, my friends, is the calm before the storm. If you ever underestimate that, you'll get baby poo all over the place. We have learnt this the hard way.

I used to think that I could never do this icky thing - changing diapers and wiping shit. But it comes so naturally now. I guess this is what love is all about. Yup, that right. True love is wiping shit. :)

We tell Jesse, "Son, one day when your parents are old and incontinent, and wearing Depends, you better return the favour." He had better.

Oh, by the way, for all of you who ever wondered why some confinement ladies prefer formula to mother's milk here it is: Formula babies shit only once a day while kids on mother's milk poop a lot. And more poop means more work. So there. Do the math.