Did you have your BM today? ~ December 21st, 2013

Never did I think my life would revolve so closely around someone else's bowel movements.

After the general pleasantries and gruntings of the morning our conversation typically turns to the following exchange. Has she pooped yet? Did she have her vitamins? Did she poop yesterday? Better make oatmeal...

Our kid has the proclivity for constipation that baffles the mind. One nugget of cheese can back her up for two days yet she craves cheese like it's her methadone program from her prior half a gallon of milk habit from the past. I find myself shoving anything with fiber in front of her and 80% of it being dismissed or handed off to friends who gladly devour her leftovers. Yet she throws nonstop curveballs at us and willingly will eat fish, chicken, pork, and anything in a pouch as long as it isn't overtly vegetable in contents. Our habit of alcohol and cigarettes of the past is now diapers and pouches for our child, and hers cost more!

As I write this I remember that she hasn't pooped since Saturday and today is Monday. I stop to ask Jamie, "Did she poop yesterday?" He replies without hesitation, "Yeah." I silently sigh in satisfaction that I didn't have to be the one to deal with it and relief that we won't have to deal with the constipation-catastrophes today. Our once colicky baby is now a cantankerous preschooler who throws Emmy-worthy (I would say Oscar-worthy but that's saved for fashion disappointments) meltdowns over the slightest gas pain, fart, or any difficulty expelling her bowels.

Yes, we give her probiotics. No, we don't let her eat processed foods. Yes, she has water all day long. No, she doesn't sit around all day. Yes, we feed her plenty of fruits and vegetables. No, we aren't inserting corks or anything else in to her to stop the flow of excrement. (Side note, what a weird and disturbing line of questioning you invasive stranger. You're a pharmacist not pediatrician, asshole.)

I currently hear her grunting as she plays with her dollhouse over in the corner. Her favorite poop hiding spot. I ask her if she wants the potty and I get an indignant, "NO!" Yay, me.