July 8, 2015

I have a superhero power.  I’m sure other parents have it as well, but I was thrilled to learn I have any skill.  Poo, simply no longer phases me.

Random Photo of Arthur


It didn’t even dawn on me until a couple of days ago.  I was feeding one of the Boys, and my wife, passing by me with her portable breast pump torture apparatus strapped to her melons, looked at me and casually said, “Hey, you’ve got a spot of poop on your forehead.”  (The result of an explosive diaper change) I nodded, thanked her and made a mental note to wash off the fecal matter attached to my skull when I had a free moment.  I didn’t freak out.  I didn’t become alarmed.  I can’t remember if I even remembered to wash at the first opportunity I had or maybe the fourth.

OK, it’s gross, but looking at the big picture it started to dawn on me that I have become impervious to being repulsed not just by poo, but anything that comes out of these kids.  Whenever I hold one of them I often have one of my hands under their butt for support.  They invariably fart directly into my hand.  I would say that each of them has farted into my hand at least 500 times.  That’s 1,000 farts I’ve caught barehanded.  I can even tell the difference if they’ve farted into my hand or if they’ll taken a crap, adding yet another skill to my repertoire.  Having divulged this information I’ll understand if any of the six people that read this blog occasionally don’t shake my hand should we meet.

Pee isn’t an issue either.  Charles pee’d through his diaper and onto my pant leg the other day.  By the time I had changed his diaper and outfit the pee on my pants had dried and I forgot to change them.  In complete honestly, I forgot that they had even been pee’d on and wore them to work the next day.

Two things are clear.  I need to improve my overall hygiene and I need to figure out how I can sell Marvel on a Superhero who can not be phased by disgusting bodily functions.  The Hulk might be strong, but he might fall to his knees if an Evil Villain let out a smelly rump ripper.  Iron Man can fly, but how would he react if a foe pee’d right in his face?  I think there’s some room for a Superhero with my skill set, if I can only figure out a cool name. I welcome any and all suggestions.

Least Favorite Child Results


Here’s Charles storing up energy for a meltdown

July 6 – Charles was the least favorite.  Talk about fussy.  You put this kid down to sleep as gently as you replace a pin in a hand grenade.  The smallest movement sends him into a screaming fit and you’re screwed if you had hopes of going to sleep yourself.  My wife put it best when she said that some parents put their child down to sleep and look at them lovingly for a few moments.  With Charles you put him down and run away…as quietly as possible.

July 7 – Charles again.  See above.  It was a Groundhog Day scenario.

Total Days As Least Favorite Child

Arthur – 17 Days

Charles – 11 Days

The race tightens