The Wind Beneath our (Ahem) Wings

Gas. Farts. Flatulence. Fluff-fluff. Poot. Plth. "Is that a trumpet in your pocket?", Wind. "Did you just sit on an elephant?" ... Need I go on?

There was a time when I held them all in. I literally stayed up an entire night so I wouldn't fall asleep and accidentally dutch-oven my then-boyfriend, now-husband. Those days have gone and left us for good, my friends. I hate to get all TMI on your asses (heh) but it's time to come clean (hee) and dish the real dirt. (ha!) Married people with babies let 'em rip. Shiyat. (knee-slap.)

Once upon a time I was very concerned with looking good and smelling good and keeping my bodily functions secret. I am still concerned with looking good and smelling good (sometimes) but somewhere around, oh, the third month of pregnancy I gave up on everything else. To hell with closing the bathroom door. We're all humans here. We know what happens on the toilet.

I have only been around my baby and have had little experience with other babies but I have a feeling that he isn't the only little dude with a brass band in his diaper. Am I right? Babies don't give a poop. They are punk rock. They enjoy butt-wiping and shuffle, shuffle, flap, flapping up and down the isles of Trader Joes.

Archer: Plthhhhhhhhhh plth plth plth plthhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
Me: "I swear that was my son. (awkward laugh) He is a gas machine."

They grunt and poop during funerals and pee whenever the hell they feel like it, ESPECIALLY on Mommy's nice Chloe out-on-the-town blouse. (Why! Why?)

So what if I have succumbed to the OM of bodily functions? I am still very much a lady. Seriously. Just ask Archer. He hangs with Momz in the bathroom and tears catalogs while I read Vogue.

I am standing here before you, GGC readers new and old to admit that I am not ashamed of the bod in all it's potty/dirtiness. No sir. One of the many gifts of motherhood is the gift of not giving a shit about shit and shit forevermoooooore....

Who's with me?



selzach | 10:10 AM

I'm sitting at my desk with a huge grin on my face. Peanut (who's just shy of 15 months) farts and burps loudly all.the.time. We fondly nicknamed him Mount Asskrackatoa in honor of his amazing gas.

Lately he's been covering his eyes when he takes a poop. I have no idea why, but it's so cute.

And they are convenient for blaming loud farts on. I *swear* it was him.

jdg | 11:21 AM

pleading the fifth. hear that Wood? we are, as a family, PLEADING THE FIFTH.

One, Two, Three, Four...Fif!

Anonymous | 11:34 AM

I can't breathe from laughing too hard - this sentence had me in tears :
"I literally stayed up an entire night so I wouldn't fall asleep and accidentally dutch-oven my then-boyfriend, now-husband."

i can't take it, kill me.. (I used to stay up too - not bodily emissions WHATSOEVER..) yeah, that goes away..

Anonymous | 1:27 PM

In the interest of full disclosure, bodily functions in this household are a competitive sport. We take this shit seriously... and Bean is proving to be a worthy competitor.

I will say, however, that N. cheats.

Alisyn | 2:21 PM

Here's where our roads diverge, GGC. I just.can't. in front of the hubbz. I just can't!

Despite the fact that the poor man saw two huge babies come out of my vagina, then helped the nurse slap one of those ice packed diapers on my ass, I can not pee, fart or anything else in front of him.

When the girls do it, though, I think it's hysterial.

Mom101 | 5:47 PM

I knew it was love when I let one rip our second week dating, looked at him in horror...and he broke the silence with, "don't worry! Farts are funny!" You just proved it again.

kiwidebra | 7:50 PM

Ohmigod. When I first started reading this, I thought you were going to mention the...ahem...noises coming from the apartment next door. We like to go high-brow and Shakespearean regarding our emanations. They're "sound and fury, signifying nothing." When my demure beautiful Baby Girl looks up at me sweetly, grunts, lets a huge one rip and grins, that's how I know she takes after me. However, I still require complete privacy in the bathroom for all other bodily functions.

Anonymous | 9:47 PM

This is the then-boyfriend now-husband letting you know that you can blow with me on the trumpet anytime. If farting is cool, you can consider me Miles Davis.


okay, bub. i challenge your brass band with my wind section. Ready and BREAK.

Anonymous | 5:13 AM

Just so you know - I've commented x2 on this and they've been eaten -or I'm being banned LOL

DAMN Blogger

AS Novus | 9:55 AM

my husband has taught our 2 year old this ditty..."rootidy toot, rootidy toot, here comes the girl from the institute." i honestly don't know, i mean i think his mom made this up, who knows what it really means, except it makes "pooters" as my daughter likes to call them, just that much funnier.

Anonymous | 10:56 AM

I'm with you.

Once you've been barfed on in public and had to walk around with squishy barf shoes, there pretty much is nothing else in life to be embarassed about.

Anonymous | 6:21 PM

I just don't fart that often, or burp. I somehow ended up gas-deficient. I used to think there was something wrong with me because I couldn't let out a great belch. However now that I'm married with accessories (kid and cats) without going into the horrible details... I'm surrounded, I tell you! SURROUNDED!!

Pinterest Failures | 6:23 AM

I noticed during my first pregnancy that I would burp and fart out of the blue--I'd always been able to control if and when I did so. Two babies later, an occasional one gets past me, causing me great angst. This is coming from someone who is terrified of going to the bathroom in public(and not to pee), and used to go down three flights of stairs of my corporate office and use the bathroom in the GYM, where I knew no one would hear me. That was if, and only if I couldn't wait until I got home at night.

Wow--I think I just crossed the threshold of TMI, on someone else's blog no less.


not even. i do the same thing. pooping in public is my greatest fear in life. i hear you, sister.

Anonymous | 1:41 PM

I actually used to worry about that until I got pregnant with Dyl Pickle...that same year, I turned 40. So I don't know if was because I couldn't help it or because I just didn't care anymore?