POOP SHAME

The other day, our nanny ("Bee-Bee"), proudly exclaimed that Baby-Ko has been mimicking her. She told me that when she went to change his diaper, it was stinky and she said "Ooof," and he copied her and said "oof!" She thought it was hilarious and I guess created a little game and while making a "pee-eww!" face says, "Baby-Ko, do you have poo-poo?" He then says, "Nooo. Ooof!" She  proudly showed me their little poo-poo shtick game and I laughed.  Funny (smart) kid, I thought.  Poo-poo is "ooof."

But the next day, when I saw he was sort of struggling while making poops, I said, "Baby-Ko are you making-" and he, almost defensively, answered, "NO!" 

He seemed to be in pain. "Ooof?" I said, trying to lighten things up. 

"NO," he said sadly and walked away.  Did I shame him???

Suddenly I remembered hearing that you're not supposed to embarrass or call attention to your toddler's poop or smell. "It will make them feel bad and make them not want to go." I have no idea where I heard it, but I can only assume it dates back to one of Wacky's lectures or a play date with a PREPMM (Perfect Read Every Parenting Manual Mommy).  But maybe this time, those nutty broads are right... Maybe "ooof" makes him feel bad. Maybe he likes his poop and wants to go freely.

I told my mom my theory and asked her if she thought I should say something to Bee-Bee -- tell her that I would prefer not to "tease" Baby-Ko about pooping. "I don't want him to have poop shame," I said. "He should poop without any judgement..." As I was saying this ridiculously "West side" mommy thing, I started to laugh right along with my mom.

"Nahh. Don't say anything. He'll be fine. He'll still poop... 'Ooof' or not... He'll go. Believe me," she said.

"He won't feel bad? Ashamed?"

"J-Ko, have you known any man in our family (or in the world?!) to feel shame about pooping?"

POINT TAKEN.

But just out of curiosity and because my OCD is raging tonight, does annnnnnnnnyone think ooofing at his pooping may cause a little poop drama down the road? Or is Wacky's word, once again, a load of crap? Literally...

ON MY MIND...

 While nothing extraordinary took place, this past week did feel like a busy one, leaving me with a few things on my plate and on my mind...

**

 T-Ko and I finally got the chance  to go see a movie. We went to see "Dark Knight" and it freaked the shit out of me. The entire time, I had my sleeves covering my eyes and my nails digging into T-Ko's hand. When we left, I thanked g-d that I wasn't pregnant because I would for sure have had to call the doctor the next day, convinced that my shpilkes during all of  The Joker's scenes had caused something terrible to happen to the baby. Of course, I was also convinced that at 7 months pregnant, I had caused my baby to go deaf after seeing another summer blockbuster. Seriously, "Ratatouille" was very loud...

**

Wacky's lecture this week was about "not labeling" your baby. For example, if your baby falls and bops their head on the floor and starts crying, you don't want to say "You're okay, you're okay," because in a way, you are telling your child that they have to be okay (and not have their own emotions). Instead, you want to say "Oh, you fell. That looked like it hurt..."  OR another example, if your baby tends to get physical when playing with other children, you don't want to say that he/she is "aggressive," as they will personify that label and start to actually act like it. Instead you want to say that they're "excited" and "engaged."  

SO, I have been thinking about Wacky's lecture and trying to apply it to my marriage, and I'm pretty sure I've got it down: I shouldn't say T-Ko is  "lazy" because he doesn't do the dishes." He's just "not a good helper." 

**

My cleaning lady acted like she was solving a crime when she looked at me suspiciously and asked me if I was pregnant. 

(I will take another minute to let you digest this. AGAIN). 

YES. For the second time in a week, I was asked if I was pregnant (which I am not). She is a very kind, sweet lady, but I was less than thrilled  when she pointed to my dress and said, "Yaay-Ko, you skinny, but I think you pregnant in that dress," (say in Spanish accent).

It's official. The Empire Waist Gods have it out for me.

**

I took two Tae-Bo classes this week, watched what I ate, doubled up on Colace and voila: lost 2 pounds. It's not as much as I had hoped for, so as I go into my final week of my 30 day diet, I am happy to announce my 30 day diet has now turned into a 60 day one.  

**

When I asked T-Ko how I should end a blog that really has no end (or beginning for that matter), he said I should talk about how much I love him....

T-Ko, I DO love you. You're my best friend. And the funniest person I know. Now please go do the fucking dishes.

The end.