My kid doesn’t poop rainbows or fart glitter.

Many people offered me tidings of doom and gloom when I announced my pregnancy. I had been warned about the expense. I was aware of the sleepless nights. I’d heard about the overwhelming love and incapacitating fear. No one really prepared me for the poop.

Don’t get me wrong, I knew babies pooped. I poop. My dog poops. I believe the Mummy might even poop. But this is a different ball game, my friends, compared to baby poop.

It started almost straight away. There I was post (72 hour) labour, torn and stitched, tired, hooked up to IVs, a catheter and with one litre and a half less blood swimming around my veins. I’d attempted (and failed) to breast feed with a ton of midwife back-up and the Baby had been returned to his cot. Then there was a noise. And a smell.

I looked hazily around and noticed a complete absence of anyone who was going to do anything about that creeping, unpleasant smell. Hmmm.

I was able to grab the various baby changing necessities without too much difficulty but there was a definite heart-stopping moment when I gingerly lifted him out from the crib and onto the bed and he threatened to tip over.

Holy black, tarry nightmare, Batman! The books I had read advised cotton wool and water to wash babies’ sensitive little tushes. I immediately knew that wasn’t going to cut it and began slowly scraping off the gum like slime from his tiny little butt cheeks with a wipe.

And so the days progressed. There was a definite correlation between my recovery and the unpleasantness of the Baby’s pooping. Thank you jaundice. At one point I went through an entire packet of nappies and wipes in a 24 hour period. I desperately wondered where was the lovely baby smell everyone went gaga for? Would people always subtly wrinkle their noses as they held my cherub?

After a few days the he finally crapped the jaundice out of his system and we entered a new phase: lava poop.

I had seen the funny movie scenes where the male baby pees in someone’s eye whilst having their nappy changed. I didn’t realize this would be such a frequent event nor how much havoc could be wreaked via an out-of-control garden hose situation such as this. But the movies didn’t warn me about lava poop.

The Baby was skilled at lava pooping. You’d be so concerned about what that tiny penis was doing you’d forget he had a secondary line of attack. The nappy would come off and the mustard magma would start flowing. Much hilarity was had by those not involved upon listening to the cries of ‘Ew! EW! Ahhhhh! Stop! AHHHH!’  from the next room.

And then there were the color palate comparisons. Delighted sharing of tones with your spouse or worried googling of phrases like ‘is green poo normal?’, examination of texture, amount, frequency and consultation of the ‘baby poop slideshow‘.

And now solids.

It is fair to say my kid definitely doesn’t poop rainbows or fart glitter.

‘What the…..?!’