I hate poop

Yes, you read that right. What a way to draw a reader in, huh?

There's a time early on in parenthood after the initial adjustment when you don't mind poop. In fact, you often times find yourself discussing it.

"Yes, little Trace had three poopies last night," you might tell grandma.

You might find yourself discussing poop patterns or even poop consistency with other mothers. Comparing poop, you might say. You develop an uncanny ability to discuss poop with the pediatrician in great detail.

I, however, have reached the point of hating poop. My days of affectionately referring to my children's poop or spending any time investigating it have sailed. I'm officially pooped out.

Trace has spent weeks pooping out of his overnight diapers after rising and before shining. I've had two weeks plus of daily crib sheet changes. After Monday morning's episode which involved scrubbing poop out from under his fingernails and a total disinfecting of the crib itself, I wised up.

Racking my brain for reasons why the diapers weren't containing the mess, it occurred to me. Diapers no longer doing their job means diapers are too small. Ahh, that light bulb moment. Why hadn't I remembered this little tad of information already learned the hard way?

Pronto, we were off to Target for larger diapers. I smugly patted myself on the back for solving my poop crisis. No more morning baths. No more poop scrubbing before 8 a.m.

That night Trace went to bed secured in his oversized size 5 Pampers Cruiser. Secretly, I was like a kid on Christmas Eve waiting to see my Tuesday morning results. I just knew the poop wasn't going to be up his back!

In an odd bit of irony, Tuesday morning came with no stench in Trace's room. The size 5 hadn't been put to the test, he apparently wasn't so moved.

Ahh, but never underestimate the power of twins. Upon picking Alysse up out of bed, I quickly learned she had made up for Trace's shortcomings in completely pooping out of her pull-up. Up her back, down her legs, on sheets, on blankets, now on me too.

I swear, they sometimes work as a conspirators. Good enough. Now, I reasoned, you'll both get the oversized diapers at bedtime, and I'll make sure the poop epic comes to an end. Again, I waited to see what Wednesday morning would bring on the poop front.

In a surprise twist, both were pulled from bed this morning without poop. Only thing is, my taller than normal laundry stacks of late were unchanged, as Alivia puked all over her bed around 3 a.m. Now I'm left to decide which I hate worse ... poop or puke?