Pocket

In the year before I started medical school and after I finished my prerequisites, I worked at a vet clinic. I met all kinds of lovely, lovely people, including one fabulous now-social worker MaryMartha. This particular work environment was... stressful. Stressful in the I-need-therapy-just-to-go-to-work kind of way. Anyway, MaryMartha used to say that it wasn't a bad day unless you had poop in your pocket. I always loved it when she said that; it put things in perspective so well. I mean, how bad could it be? So you got yelled at. So you were accused of all kinds of insane and horrible things. At least you didn't have poop in your pocket. Except that sometimes you did have poop in your pocket. Then it was just funny.

I thought of her today when I was trying to give Colin a bath. I took off his very full diaper in order to wash him up and change him. I wrongly assumed that since his diaper was full, I'd have a little wiggle room when it came to him being all uncovered. But waddya know - turns out he was saving some up, just for my pocket. All of my pockets, actually. And the rug.

And, just like in the old days at the vet, it was just funny. I couldn't be mad because hey! I had baby poop in my pocket! HA!