So we’re talking about intellectual freedom at a staff meeting, and a staff member talks about asking a patron to turn off a video of a man receiving a blow job because the woman next to him complained. And this is what the librarian said:
“Who wants to sit next to a blow job?”
Who indeed?
Maya had her first real poop today. By real, I mean the kind from real food, not from breast milk. Think all poop is the same? Clearly you are not familiar with breast milk poopies. Excrement from a breast fed baby smells a bit nutty — like the smell of a slightly sweaty neck — while excrement from a formula fed baby smells like what it is — a weapon of mass destruction. We should not drop bombs, we should drop cargo loads of formula-poop diapers. Judging from how that smell could fill a room, we could take over an entire country, or at least sneak up on them while they were gagging from the smell.
We kind of forgot that Maya was growing up, and is five and a half months old. When Ben was 4 months old, we gave him his first real food — creamed carrots and sweet potatoes (“real” being a vague definition, of course). We took about 497 photos of the event. With Maya, we pushed back the real food issue, knowing what it means when a child is still in diapers, until she grabbed a slice of Albertson’s 9-grain deli bread out of my hands two nights ago and started gnawing on it (read: 4 grams of fiber per slice). She had applesauce, spaghetti and yogurt that night. The next morning she smashed some pancake into her hair and clothes, and that evening she had some more toast. She gnawed on a couple of carrots, too.
I missed her first real-food poop. Marti was home today and changed her, but of course he called to report (this, by the way, is how you know you’ve arrived: when your spouse calls you at work to describe the size and consistency of your child’s poop). The flax seeds from the bread came out whole and untouched (well, sort of) and the spaghetti? Well, there it was. Not only that, she pooped while she was sleeping and didn’t even wake up. By the time Marti smelled the poop, it was an emergency situation that required softening and removal via the shower (note to self: bleach later). Some days I miss being home.
But really, it’s a milestone, the first real poop. *Sniff* (no pun intended) My baby’s growing up.
One week after the surgery, Maya’s lip is healing nicely.
