Yeah, I'm that weird girl.
I've seen the CSI team find trace evidence in a month old barrel of human goo, a house filled with blood, shoe prints and some bubble gum wrappers, and a go-cart that traveled with a decapitated body.
I have never once seen them find evidence in a pile of poop.
So why is that I think I can super-sleuth my way into CSI fame-dom by searching through Bjorn's diapers?
I don't remember the last time I went Number 2. But I can tell you what time (7:45), consistency (dry, stringy), color (creamed spinach), odor (dirty pig mud-sty) and how many times (6) that Bjorn has pooped today.
I can tell if he ate chicken, apples, bananas or
And while I'm ashamed to admit it to anyone but you Bloggy Mama's. . . . I have actually picked up the diaper, walked it out to the Hubs in front of the TV and said 'Look at this one!' Not only have I done it, I've done it more than once.
He's sick of the poop talk. I'm sick of the poop talk. But when the baby doesn't speak, ya gotta let his poop speak for him.
Which is why you'll still see me examining his poop with every change. Because that's what Mamas do. But don't worry, I stay away from Number 2 pictures. With a mom who blogs, a kid has to have some kind of dignity.