Rubbers

Me, "Doctor, my son has blood in his stool." Our Pediatrician, "Just on the outside, or all through?" Me, "How would I know?" Doctor, "You're going to need to retrieve some and disect it." Me, "What the *%#@!!!!!"

I calmly put a movie on for Dillon, locked the bathroom door, (I didn't want Dillon to come in there and find me toilet-bowl-diving and think it's a new acceptable sport) and said a few choice words under my breath, and that's when it hit me...this is what parenting is all about: Loving another human being enough to root through even the nastiest stuff while gagging and cursing. But in the end, doing what has to be done. And I thought, am I really ready to be responsible for two? I'm not sure my hands can handle regular bleach-downs. Ya, I'm ready...I now own rubber gloves in several shades. There will probably be double these experiences with Baby Case in tow, but in that moment I decided that I've got enough love to dumpster/toilet-bowl-dive for two.

And, yes, Dillon is fine.