Parenting, Currently

I know there's probably nothing, and I mean nothing, more boring than hearing a mom talk about her baby's poop.  I get that.  I do.  

But you know that amazing feeling one gets when the waitress brings a giant slice of cheesecake?  Or the bag boy calls you miss instead of m'am?  Or you get a hefty tax refund come April?  (Maybe this just applies to me?). 

All this pales in comparison to the sweet rush of euphoria I just got in discovering that Vivi finally pooped after three days of nothing but pain-inducing turd nuggets.  I mean, the poor girl has lost her voice from crying so hard and so often.  She sounds like a Lindsay Lohan baby.  It's so sad.  

And it was a real poop...with substance and style.  And it didn't make her cry.  And she smiled at us again!  

As soon as I finished putting her to bed, I scooped up that dirty diaper and brought it downstairs so I could gaze at it under the lights.  It was like Christmas morning.  Sure, it smelled like something had died, but that bad boy is going to change our lives.  It deserved its moment in the sun.  

I threw it out with a salute, washed my hands, and treated myself to two squares of ultra dark chocolate from Trader Joes cause it's dairy, soy, wheat, egg, and nut free!  

Boy, I feel ten pounds lighter.  

This is a parental love, folks...getting this excited because somebody else pooped.

And if future Vivi ever reads this and gets horribly embarrassed, I'm sorry honey, but you pooped!  Go, you!  Yay!