This week I became an official Worrying Mother. I never thought I was the worrying type before, and in fact I wasn’t. I’m really pretty laid back, or at least I was. Now, though, I have a baby to worry about, and I’m doing a terrific job of it. I started noticing that Isaiah’s pee was a darker yellow, and his poop changed color and consistency. (Sorry to everyone out there reading this who isn’t a mom, because it’s gross and you probably don’t understand why anyone would look that closely in the first place.) So I got online to see what it could mean, and lo and behold, it turns out those are signs of dehydration in babies. The signs were listed on numerous websites along with warnings about how Isaiah could die a horrible death if I didn’t fix it soon. So over the course of two days, I watched every single time he went to the bathroom, took his temperature twice a day, collected pee and poop in a cup, and I even smelled a few wet diapers to see if anything suspicious was happening. I came to the conclusion that Isaiah was indeed dehydrated and in grave danger, and so I brought him to the doctor. She checked him out and almost laughed right in front of me, because there was absolutely nothing wrong with him. Apparently he's a super-healthy baby with an overactive worrier for a mother. She wouldn’t even take the sterile poop sample I brought in as proof that he was very sick. She reassured me that he was fine and dandy, and concluded that things changed because Isaiah, unlike most other babies, holds his pee and poop and waits until we take him to the bathroom so it’s more concentrated. She suggested I take him to the bathroom more often and see if it fixed the problem. Of course it did, and I felt like a big worrying idiot. To be honest, though, I didn’t really care, because my little sweetie pie is alright.
I’ve also discovered that Isaiah definitely has a boy’s sense of humor. On Friday, we had a great day out together, and we had been out of the house all day (which was a big relief after being in the house all day for a while.) We had visited Michael at work so that we could have lunch with him, and then Isaiah slept while I walked around the mall for a few hours. It will be so nice when it’s warm enough to walk outside with him. We were finally headed home, and I was slipping Isaiah out of the carrier and into his car seat when he woke up hungry. I decided to just feed him in the car so he wouldn’t be hungry all the way home. As he was eating, I felt him fill his diaper, and I figured I should change it before I started driving, because Isaiah hates dirty diapers. I set down a changing mat on the back seat and got out a new diaper and the travel pack of wet wipes. As I began to change him, I noticed that I only had two wet wipes and made a mental note to refill when we got home. I had him all cleaned up and was lifting his little butt to slip the new diaper underneath, when he grunted and shot out a blast of what looked like guacamole. I screamed in horror as the green poo hit the car, my sweater, my wool coat, the carrier, his legs, the car seat, and my hair. I looked down in shock to see little Isaiah grinning from ear to ear. Yep. He definitely has a boy’s sense of humor. Unfortunately, I had already used the two wet wipes I had, so I just took off my already-pooped-on-sweater and cleaned up what I could while Isaiah smiled on and kicked his feet into even more poop. Then I drove home as quickly as possible, and when we got there, we took a very long bath.Only someone as cute as Isaiah could get away with pooping on me and still have me so very much in love with him.