Very poop-centric, this one.

Andrew took Essie to her pediatrician's appointment last week. I stayed home, ostensibly to do some housework and make spaghetti sauce for dinner but also so that I could twirl around singing, "All alone, all alone," to myself in the empty apartment while the cats looked on.

The dishes were done, surfaces were wiped, sauce was made, songs were sung and cats were petted. Then Andrew and Essie came home and I nearly ripped her out of the sling since I had missed her sunny little self so much. After spending a while sniffing and snuggling and kissing her I got the report from Andrew on the visit.

Essie's been spitting up a lot these days. Nothing major, nothing serious, but still she's been spitting up a bit more than we thought might be normal so Andrew asked about it. The pediatrician wasn't too worried but suggested mixing a little bit of pablum in her formula to thicken it up a bit, which might cut down on her bringing it back up.

So, Andrew went grocery shopping and came home with a package of President' s Choice organic rice pablum, which I mixed a teaspoon or so of into her next bottle. She didn't even flinch, just drank it down as usual. I did the same for the bottle after that, and when she was pretty much exactly halfway through it my brain said, "BZZZT what about constipation?"

Hmmm. Essie is always constipated these days. Sometimes her poop even makes her cry. So, I looked up rice pablum to see how constipating it is and was HORRIFIED to read what moms and doctors had to say. The worst quote likened a mixture of formula and pablum to pouring concrete directly into your baby's bowels.

I yanked the bottle away and made a fresh one, making it a bit more watery than usual, even. Essie didn't care, whatever, a bottle's a bottle. She doesn't even care what temperature it is, warm or room temperature, it's all the same to her. This was Thursday. On Friday she pooped and it was a normal poop. A pre-pablum poop, I knew, since there was no way she'd processed the bottles of concrete mix from the night before that quickly.

Fast-forward to today, Sunday, the day she'd be due for a poop after pooping on Friday. She's an every-two-days pooper, this kid, and like I said; it's often very uncomfortable and downright painful for her. Poor bug. I'd had a restless night with Essie and was napping kind of fitfully. Andrew and Essie were also in the bed, relaxing on a thunderstormy day, and I heard Andrew say, "Oh, poop." He'd done a diaper scan and seen some poop. I told him he should let her work it all out and then change the diaper.

After a bit he scanned again and said, "Yeah, poop." I was excited. I sat up to witness the triumphant passing of the concrete poop, relieved that it hadn't taken weeks to work through. Andrew opened the diaper, carefully folding the sticky tabs so that they wouldn't catch on Essie's perfect baby skin. Then. Then: he pulled back the front of the diaper and revealed the concrete poop within!

Lo: A tiny nugget of poop sat forlornly in her diaper. Not even a nugget: A pellet. She had produced one tiny, insignificant pellet of poop. I laughed. I laughed and laughed. The poop pellet was just so anticlimactic.

Thankfully she produced a much more significant poop in her next diaper and I am satisfied that our concrete worries are behind us. BUT! I am getting excited for solid foods now since it seems she can process more than just formula pretty well. Go, baby, go!