You know how I know I'm a mom? No, it's not the obvious: the abundance of people under 3 ft tall following me around all the time. Oh no. It's that poo is a genuine concern of mine. As in it makes apperances at the dinner table as a topic of conversation. Seriously. Who has and has not gone recently, how much, consistancy, smell and likelyhood that foods on the table will encourage or discourage another diaper deposit are all frequent subjects.
I wish this wasn't the case. Really I do. But somehow part of being a parent is being deeply, irrevicoably, interested in poo.
Other things I care about and really wish I didn't:
~Belly button gunk
~Picking mysterious subtances out of hair (not always the kid's hair, either)
~Prying half eaten stuff from a mouth, then examining it to figure out what it once was
~The crud found under toenails