That Would Be Poo In My Hands

Since having a baby I can officially say I've done things I NEVER thought I would do a year ago.  For example, I sniff her butt all day. Okay, not the actual butt, but pretty close. And then once I take in the fresh unbearable smell, I find myself reporting to some imaginary friend if it's a clean or dirty diaper.  So, again let's recap: I voluntarily go looking for bad smells AND I talk to a person, who is not there.  Awesome.

Second of all, I've voluntarily touched a lot of poo.  I know that comes with the job, but the other day I think it went a little too far.  So, the little one hates to sit still while getting changed.  She'll twist and turn, and try to leap off the changing table (I know, I know, if I just let her hit the ground one time she'll finally learn...)  So, the other day I was changing her on the floor, and after wrestling her for a few minutes, I decided to let her go and run free.  So, off she went, buck naked - ready to conquer the world. (Much like how I was my freshman year in college.)  When all of the sudden while she went to pull herself up onto a TV stand I saw a nice piece of poo start to come out of her.  (Again, much like my freshman...wait a second.)  Immediately, I jumped up and in one motion, grabbed my naked child and the poo from landing on the ground. Yep, again, for those of you not fully grasping this image: I, a 34 year old college graduate, found myself holding a naked child in one arm and a handful of poo in the other.  And here's the scariest part: I didn't freak out.  I didn't even gag a little bit. Nope, you would have thought I was holding a crisp 100 dollar bill in my hand.  Had this happened to me a year ago I would have probably doused my hand in gasoline and just set it on fire.

Ah, why didn't anyone tell me that becoming a mother actually paralyzes all natural responses?  Wait did someone tell me this?  Did they call it love?  No, that's sounds stupid.