"I love it when they call me Big Poopa"

It was some time around 3pm yesterday afternoon that for whatever reason, Malcolm had his first poo in 2 1/2 days. We'd started to get concerned about 36 hours in and by this morning the worrying was passing the "Should we call the doctor?" phase and getting close to "We should call the doctor." But it still hadn't passed the "Let's check the internet" phase so that's what we did.

And basically, like we've found out about many other things, a halt in poo production is totally normal. In all other regards, he was totally fine. Not overly upset, not spitting up any more than usual, not unhappy. He wasn't eating as well as he had been, he was eating and getting enough food, just not buckling down and concentrating on the job at hand, er mouth, as usual.

Pam ran into her lactation consultant on Tuesday who confirmed that this just happens sometimes and as long as he was ok otherwise, it wasn't anything to worry about. But, she said, be prepared for when he at last made a new deposit at the Brown Town Bank, because it would be epic. Have a change of clothes for him and a change of clothes for you, she was told. It's going to go everywhere.

So we got home from lunch and I went back to work in the dining room while Pam fed the boy on the couch. About 15 minutes in, I hear, "Oh good." 

"Do we have poop?" I ask.

"Oh, there's some kind of surprise in there," she says. A few minutes later, she says, "Yup, there is definitely a present for us."

Malcolm finishes his lunch and gets taken back to his room for a change. "OH GOD!" I hear. "It's everywhere... it, uh... it... Daddy, we need help!!" I go in to see that it has blown out at the front of both legs, even caking the plastic grabby-teeth thing that holds the diaper together. The diaper is an emergency disaster zone and the diaper cover did the best it could, but was overwhelmed by the onslaught. 

And it's runny. A gooey, gross mess that's been stored up in his body since sometime on Sunday. And he's squirmy, so it's getting all over him, all over the mat under him. Pam's cleaning him, I'm taking care of the dirty stuff, we're both making references to the Lord and blessed fecal matter, and all the time Malcolm is just laughing and smiling at the hubbub, pleased as punch to have his tush cleaned by professionals.

Lucky for you we didn't think to take pictures. You're welcome.

Never before has relief been mixed with such a strong gross-out factor. Of course, then I remember we haven't even started on solid foods yet. There's something to look forward to....

Official weigh-in and height check from the doctor.... 14 lbs 12 ozs and 25 1/4".