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Sunday, February 13, 2011

First birthday, first BLOWOUT!

Anyone who is not yet a parent probably does not completely understand the undertone of this particular title. I know I certainly could not have comprehended it's embarrassingly intense magnitude just a little over a year ago. Here's how it all went down. We had just celebrated Senia Mae's first birthday with handfuls of our family and friends at our side. Hats, balloons, cake, and the color pink exploded everywhere - it was fantastic - and Senia Mae had a ball being handed off to all of her adoring fans. We got so caught up in the moment that we forgot to take a cousins photo with my sister's two boys. This morning we rose, ate breakfast, and got re-dressed for the un-birthday photo. Senia Mae was looking like a doll in her new denim miniskirt, silver metallic leggings, and long sleeved rock n' roll pullover, topped with ringlet pigtails. The family gathered in the living room while Momma worked with the tripod, setting up the angle, dimensions, and lighting perfectly. We all took our places, squeezing in closely as Momma set the red blinking light, hurriedly running to her place at the rear of the family lineup. That's when my Mom heard the sound. "I heard like a rumble" she said, "but thought nothing of it." Famous last words. The first photo needed to be retaken due to a conflict of poses. During the quick break I instructed my mother to readjust her positioning of Senia Mae, requesting that she face her forward in order to show off her adorable ensemble. I reached behind my daughter, helping my mother rotate her on her forearm. My hand plunged into something warm, soft, and fluffy. Pulling my hand back quickly I stared at my fingers, covered with this yellow-brown substance, in shock, confused about just how one of the cats could have thrown up all down Senia Mae's back without any of us knowing. After another few moments, with laughter shaking the walls of the living room, I realized that no cat had thrown up on my daughter, she had just given us her first blowout, meaning the explosion is so intense that it blows right out of the diaper, and this warm, fluffy substance all over my hands was indeed POOP! It had come up the back of her diaper, all over my hand, all over my mother's red sweater, up the back of her shirt, and was currently dripping down my mom's elbow. That perfect, petite little package of cuteness secretly exploded with a silent "rumble" and looked away as the damage was uncovered. Here's how the photo ended up. Enjoy!