Yesterday I had to unexpectedly stay home from work. Autumn and I came in to the office and grabbed some files for me to work on at home, but still, it was not a good time for me to be off.
But such is the life of parenting.
And all of it because (and I apologize in advance, but if you spend much time around kids, you should be used to it) of her butt. She got sent home the day before for some nasty action down there and until she had a nice, normal poop again she couldn't go back to school. We waited all day yesterday and nothing happened -- until 5 p.m. when I'd normally be leaving work anyway.
As I've explained details of Autumn's diaper contents to family and to coworkers over the last 48 hours, I've realized this isn't the first time when there's been a great deal of talk about her poop and I'm sure it won't be the last.
Recently, we proudly told people she pooped in the potty for the first time. Then we told them when she did it for the second time. This was big news in our lives, sad as that may sound.
When Autumn was a newborn, the lactation nurse called from the hospital and asked me how many time she wet her diaper and how many BMs she had in a 24-hour period. Unfortunately for them, I was pretty tired and could barely remember what was in the most recent diaper, let alone what was in there for each diaper during the whole previous day. Apparently the diaper contents served as a good indicator for how well she was eating. Imagine that.
And now I realize that if I save these blog entries and show them to Autumn in the far-away future, she's going to be so embarrassed that I just blogged about her poop.