At least to me they are. I have a severe aversion to them. You think I’m kidding? Ask my sisters, or parents or the Edder. One of my sister’s suffers from the same affliction, belly button fear. It’s a real thing. I can’t stand the thought of someone or something touching or getting near my belly button. Freaks me out. Seriously, anything or anyone who gets near my belly button knows they will have hell to pay. This should bode well when I’m a fat and sassy pregnant chick with a popped belly button…. ugghhhhh so GRROOOOSSSSSSSSS.
Don’t even ask about the trauma suffered knowing part of my surgery involved machinery going in through my belly button. EIEUEIHAHAHAHAhHAAHblalhahhahahh icky.
Hold on. Have to finish my bent-over-stomach-holding-cringe-fest before I continue.
Okay. Moving on. Now that you know this information it should come as no surprise to you that my poor sweet baby nephew was an innocent victim of my belly button fear. When he was a mere eight days old.
A few weeks ago we were at my sisters house playing with Kade. I was holding baby boy when I got a whiff of the fact that he might need a dipey change. I told my sister I would do it, no problem. So she went and got the changing pad, a diap and some wipes for me. I was happily chatting away to Kade (while he slept) and was un-doing his adorable little Raccoon outfit when I got to the point of pulling his feetsie pant legs off of him. When I saw it. IT. THAT. His umbi-stump. Shiver.
I literally dropped the kids feetsies, jumped back and made some manner of squawky-scared noise. Needless to say I was not prepared for his black belly button stump. Totally forgot he might still have his umbi-stump. Poor kid. He just needed clean pants and his aunt can’t deliver due to the fact that she flips out over belly buttons.
My sister stepped in to finish the job while everyone around me (two sets of grandparents, the new daddy and edder) commented on how I was going to handle it when my own baby comes along and she has a umbi-stump. My answer? That’s what Edder and grandparents are for. And Milo. Totally going to teach Milo to change diapers to get me through until that thing falls off her stomach! He will do great.
Yeah, I’m willing to face the “what kind of mom will you be” judgement over this fact. I don’t care. The small humans can vomit, poop, whatever… all over me. One thing I won’t tolerate is an umbi-stump. Judge away. No shame.
Until his umbi-stump fell off I was in charge of doling out kissums and squeezums to the little big man. He seemed to be okay with that. We had an excellent chat about it, he told me he’s cool with my dislike of his umbi-stump. So we’re good. Thankfully that thing is long gone and we can resume normal processes, of his auntie being able to change his pants if required.