Seriously. . .

Here we are, nearly 8 months later, and the poo stories still reign.

Trey still only poos about once to twice a week. But now, he will poo all day long. He'll do one (yes, one, only one poo in his diaper) in the morning, a few hours later do another, then do another around dinnertime.

Today was apparently his day to poo. I thought I was safe this time. Trey pooed. Just one poo. So I started changing him and when I wiped his little bum, I had to keep wiping because the wipe was still dirty, even though it should have been clean. OH NO! He was doing ANOTHER poo. Right into the wipe. I shouted for Patrick because I was sure I was going to need help, assuming they were going to keep coming.

However, he did just the one. And let me tell you, his dad was proud. What is it with boys and poo? I swear, they bonded over this and cracked up at mom. Women just don't get it, I guess.

Love

EMERGENCY!

Ok, yes, about a million things have happened since I last blogged, but I've just been saving up my funny stories.

Trey is just now getting over the flu. Patrick had it, I had it, then Trey had it. He's taken far, far longer to get over his sickness than either of his parents took, but he's being way less of a baby about being sick than his daddy. Oh, and his mommy.

The other morning, as my wonderful husband was letting me sleep in, I awoke to him screaming, "EMERGENCY!! EMERGENCY!!" in the living room. Panicked, I jumped out of bed and raced into the living room, in only my underwear, with visions of broken bones and bloodied gashes. As I stood in the middle of the room, (almost) naked as a jaybird, I realized the EMERGENCY was. . .puke. Yes. Trey had projectile vomited three times, and Patrick, not knowing what to do, decided to give me a heart attack in order to get me out of bed as quick as possible so I could direct him in what to do. Or do it for him. So I cleaned it up.

Next time he yells EMERGENCY!, I'll put pants on first.