The Brown Badge of Courage

I’m sure you’ve all had a similar discussion with expecting parents. For me, it was Matt and Nicole. We’re chatting about crib sheets and Robeez, when all of a sudden the conversation takes a turn. In our case, it was Matt who asks the big question: “how bad is the whole diaper thing?”

You know what he’s really thinking: “just how much is poop going to invade my life?” Of course you say “it’s really not that big a deal. You get used to it” What else could you say? There’s no turning back for them at this point. But in reality you want to lean in, cast a steely gaze across the table, and say in hushed tones through clenched teeth:

“You don’t know the horrible aspects of poop. I’ve been through two children and I know. I’ve seen Diaper Genies overturned. I’ve seen poop in the tub, poop on the carpet. I tell you, poop is Hell!”

We all remember our first time. You’re wrapping the diaper up for disposal and maybe just once you wrap it a little too tightly. You can feel an odd sensation – a little warm and gooey on the back of your hand. You’re a little bit in shock and your brain doesn’t know how to react. But then the realization strikes you like lightning “OH MY GOD! I TOUCHED POOP. I TOUCHED POOOOOP!!!!!!”

You were green then, and it didn’t kill you even though you thought it would. Five years and two children later, you are a grizzled poop veteran. You have the battle scars to prove it: this scar is from the blow-out diarrhea when you were out of diapers… at Target; that scar is from the billowing brown clouds emitting from your son’s bathing suit at the pool. This one is from constipation. That one is from diarrhea¹. There are so many more scars, you couldn’t even count them if you wanted to. Heck, you’ve forgotten where you got half of them.

The biggest scar of all is on your very soul. Parenthood called and you responded. You’re not proud of everything you’ve done, but you did what you had to do. The tattered regimental flag still flaps in the breeze. You’re still standing. You ain’t been whipped by poop yet and you ain’t plannin’ to let it whip you in the future.

And if this crazy world has taught you anything, it’s that poop is just a part of life. Like being an orderly in the old-folks home, dealing with excrement is just part of the job of a parent and you do get used to it. But make no mistake, it is a dirty job. Some of you expectant couples may think parenting all glamor and glory, but let me tell you, boys:

Poop is Hell!

 

¹Footnote: the biggest poop catastrophe in Kimmel family history – probably in all of human history – occurred in 2012. Chiara was on stool softeners for constipation. Cody showed his admiration for Chiara by eating several. Cody always likes to wait until the last possible second – every trip to the toilet is an emergency – and this time was no exception. I frantically sprint with him in my arms, but in removing his pants his underwear snags on his foot. It was all over: what I swear was five pounds of very loose poop come out – all over him, all over me, all over the bathroom floor and rug and shower curtain. I couldn’t even move for fear of tracking it all over the house. So Andrea went about what I’m sure was the worst parenting experience of her life – while Cody and I took an impromptu shower. We hid the stool softeners from then on.