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5 Things They Don't Tell You About Babies

Our baby is approaching her four-month birthday and it has been interesting to say the least. If you're looking for info on feeding or sleeping there are mountains of references to choose from. Here are a few things I didn't find in any book.

1. Babies are loud sleepers.
At least ours is. She has been very good about sleeping in her crib since her first night home. But during the holidays at Grandma and Grandpa's house we had her in a little "Pack and Play" in the room with us. It was a very Merry Christmas but not because of the quality of our sleep.

She grunted and snorted and stamped her feet, all in her sleep. It was like we were rooming with a baby elephant. Next time we'll be sure to bring peanuts.

2. All baby poop stinks.
The common thought is that the waste from formula-fed babies smells bad, but that of breast-fed babies is OK. Well, that bit of information stinks.

Poop is poop. There may be different seats on the bus but you're all going to the same place. Sometimes it gets so bad I wonder if she's sneaking nachos into her crib at night. This nose knows pain.

3. Diapers aren't foolproof.
We've all seen the commercials where different diaper brands brag about leaking less than the others. But all they ever show is a little blue liquid spilling out. No one mentions that the sometimes the dam breaks and then it's every man for himself.

Each morning when you pick up your child there could be a surprise waiting for your hand. A routine diaper change can suddenly turn into an episode of Rescue 911. You just haven't truly bonded with your child until her fresh feces is pooling in your lap or running down your arm.

4. Poop flies.
Everyone talks about what happens if you don't cover up a baby boy's sprinkler. But they don't mention the extreme danger that is the other end. Our newborn had the uncanny knack for doing a #2 when her diaper was off. Call it coincidence, call it just liking the fresh air, but her little bottom went to town when it was uncovered.

And it was powerful. Stuff would shoot out of there like it was a mini bazooka. Most of the time we could catch it in the new diaper (which wasn't very good for the budget but that's another story) but sometimes she was just too fast. Or she fired off both barrels. And oh the distance she could get.

It's a bird! It's a plane! It's time to get new carpet!

Speaking of which, I have a complaint about the baby industry. Most everything comes in blue or pink. But the official color of babywear should be yellow. Because it's bright like the sun? No. Because it's cute like duckies? Double no. Because that's the color of all your stains.

I love the yellow now. Yellow onesies. Yellow changing pads. Yellow sheets. If we ever design another nursery I'm going to be looking for some sort of yellow carpet. Seriously. Yellow is baby camouflage.

5. You talk a lot about poop.
Did you spot the trend? No longer do you discuss weekend plans or how so-and-so is doing with such-and-such. Now the conversation centers around whether or not your little precious has had a b.m. And if it's been more than a day since her last stool, you find yourself rooting for it.

How's that for a paradox? You shudder in fear each time you peel back that tape on the diaper. You anxiously wince whenever your little one grunts. But then the next morning you're hoping for it, like you miss it or something. People ask when you know you've grown up. It just may be when you realize you're praying for poop.

Now that's what I call talking crap.

Amazing Race thought of the week:
NOOOOOOOOOO!!! A piece of my heart was pinned when Lori and Bolo went home. They fought hard but their mental weakness eventually body-slammed them. May their love be more thrilling than a pay-per-view cage match.

Bachelorette thought of the week:
Jen keeping Fabrice at the end of the third episode reminds me why I always get angry at this show. Someone explain this logic to me: This guy is willing to betray and badmouth his roommates, therefore he might be my soul mate. Oh, and when he's not crying or pouting he's trying to force his tongue down my throat. Here's a rose! But thankfully he pulled an Osten (like she was going to pick him anyway) and is now gone. How do you say, "Beat it, loser" in French?

Disclaimer: Scott is a regular guy trying to raise a regular kid.
Look for the tale to continue when he has time to breathe.