One of the “bright sides” of having NikkiZ at a daycare while I work to fund my TiVo addiction, is that someone else gets to change her poopy diapers for at least nine hours a day. I had actually gone several days in a row last week without wiping even ONE poopy ass since NikkiZ usually has her bowels all cleaned out by the time I pick her up and they don’t seem to fill up again until mid-morning the next day. And let me tell you, poop-free days are BEAUTIFUL things when you’re the one cleaning the poop up.

Well, this week? NikkiZ has decided to celebrate my presence when I come to nurse her by pooping the NASTIEST, STINKIEST, GROSSEST poops imaginable during the time I’m there to feed her. As much as I’d love to pretend she has NOT pooped while I’ve been feeding her and just leave it for her teachers to find later, she is very LOUD when she poops and if they can hear her across the room, I can’t pretend I didn’t. And I’d love to be all, “Um…I’ll let you guys get that,” but I think that would put me on the “Most Hated Parents” list quicker than forgetting to restock her wipes. So, I’ve been the one changing the stinky diapers on several occassions this week and I just want NikkiZ to understand that, right now? I’ll tolerate this. But when we start feeding her solid foods? She’d better be saving those BMs for AFTER I leave each time, or I’ll find a way to make her change them HERSELF.

I drove NikkiZ to Florence, AL today to visit my friend Stace. She enjoyed seeing her Aunt Stace but did NOT like the several hours in the car OR the lack of stretch and play time.

So - to pay me back? She just pooped on me.

I’m not going to forget this if the roles are reversed someday. Just so you know, Missy.

I am finally listening to those of you who told me I need a “Poop” category, and I’ve got a GREAT story to christen it with. Last night? MrZ really wanted NikkiZ to wake up so he could hang out with her, so he decided to give her a bath. She was so sleepy that she made it through the bath relatively well. Afterwards, he was holding her in her towel as I was cleaning up the bath stuff. I heard the sound of her pooping in her diaper and turned to MrZ to say something about her bowels being awake.

But when I looked at him? The look on his face told me ONE THING.

NikkiZ was NOT wearing a diaper.

The pandemonium that followed was filled with us dying of laughter. There was poop all over NikkiZ, all over the counter where we were giving her a bath, and all over MrZ. It was truly awesome and while we were desperately trying to clean up and get a diaper on her before she did anymore damage, we were also dying laughing because the scene was just THAT DAMN FUNNY.

Lesson learned. The cuter the face? The mightier the poop.

Please be warned this entry is about possibly unpleasant bodily functions.

Okay. I’m nine weeks away from passing a child through my vagina. This is VERY tough for me because I am not at ALL at peace with my bodily functions. For example? MrZ calls me the “stealth pooper” because I am in and out so quickly that he never knows I’ve been taking care of business. I avoid pooting and burping when at all possible. I don’t even like anyone to see me NAKED. I am not at peace with any part of my body or any process it goes through.

But, this whole “labor” thing? Is very much a messy bodily function involving some, if not all, of my girly parts. And I’m not quite ready for MrZ to be witness to all of that.

Yes, MrZ has been witness to my Paps (whee!) and several vaginal ultrasounds (WHEE!). Yes, we’ve been together for five years, at times he’s even seen me naked (I know!). Of course it all seems very ridiculous but I am just so nervous about it. What if I POOP? EEK. I am totally not ready for this.

MrZ is so casual about that stuff. He talks about poops, poots, and burbs like they’re chores in his day. He is very open about his sphigmoidoscopy and talks to everyone about it without even a HINT of embarassment. He is just aware that these are the facts of life and they are NOTHING to be ashamed of. I totally wish I could be more like him.

(Well, I don’t want to be all BRAGGING about my bodily functions like most boys do, but you know, just acknowledging them is a start.)

He was even calm while I had to remove a tick from his private parts. That took a LOT of bravery on his part. And trust in me (and in my steady hand with tweezers).

But I dont want him to see me poop! Or wet the bed. Or cry. Or scream. Or bleed from girly parts. Or POOP!

Remember the cookies I mentioned that I would NOT be sharing with you? Yeah. I’ve eaten SIX so far today. SIX Cookies. And about the time I started feeling really guilty about that? I went to the restroom and realized I had melted chocolate chip all over my ass. Well, on the ass of my light-kahki pants anyway. When I went back to my office, I saw the reminants of a chunk o’ cookie on my chair. Evidently - in my haste to demolish all of the cookies so that no one else would get any - I dropped some. Now? I look like I pooped in my pants.

So guess what I did on my lunch break?

I went to Target and bought new slacks, of course. I refuse to be talked about as the “Poopy-Pants Girl” in my office.

Now - the “Cookie Whore” I can handle…