| Poojinked |
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| Thursday, 02 October 2008 01:41 |
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Now that school is underway and soccer season is in full swing, getting to the gym for a workout is a major coup. So I felt pretty good Monday when I climbed on the elliptical at the YMCA. I was starting the week off right! It wasn"t long before I was moving fast and working up a sweat. I reached up and ran my forearm across my mouth- and my face froze as I smelled something unmistakable. Poo. Baby poo. I HAD BEEN POOJINKED!!! This is just another one of those taboo parenting subjects that"s never discussed in Baby Magazine or on The View. Yet I"m willing to bet that 99.9% of all moms out there have been poojinked at least once. I can"t even count the number of times it"s happened to me. When Punky was a baby, poo would commonly lodge itself beneath one of my fingernails while I was changing her diaper. It stayed there, undetected even after what I thought was a thorough hand scrubbing, until I was out somewhere and happened to scratch my nose. POOJINKED. And while Punky was bad enough, I now believe Bruiser may be the most successful poojinker of all time- because changing his diaper is like trying to pin down a 27-pound bear cub. He wriggles and squirms and gets on all fours and then stands and paws at the air. Generally, diaper changes end with him on his tiptoes, clutching my neck, while I do a hug-n-wipe and just pray I get it all. A few days ago, after a particularly bad blowout diaper, I continued smelling the effects for several minutes afterward. I walked past a mirror wrinkling my nose and saw some spots on the front of my shirt. Thinking it was food of some sort, I tried to brush it off, then looked down at my hand in horror. He had done it again.  Poojink Enemy Number One.
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