It would be a shame to have to suffer through the memory of this day alone, so I present to you:
A Tale of Two Poops
A story of woe by M.L. Lundgren
Yesterday afternoon I needed to run some errands. So we all packed into the car and hit the DMV and then Target. On the way to the grocery store after, Isla started crying. "Mommom (that's what she calls me lately. I dunno where it came from and it's weird as fuck) I'm so very huuuuungry!!"
First of all, this child eats. She eats more than Jamie and Wren put together. Not to mention, I'm pretty sure she's about to growth spurt something fierce. We had just eaten lunch before we left the house and I had gotten them an ice cream treat to get through the DMV, so I was pretty sure she wasn't hungry. I told her we were going to the grocery store and we could buy a snack there.
She started freaking out, crying real tears and saying, "Ow mommom! My belly is so hungry!" This goes on for a little while with me telling her that I don't have any food in the car and her crying crying like she's a starving orphan. Then suddenly she stops and is pretty much silent until we get to the store.
As I'm unbuckling her from the car seat, she says, "I pooped!" And it all makes sense. (We're working on potty training but I'm not an asshole and still put her in diapers when we go out) In a moment of panic and horror, I realize I didn't grab my diaper bag and I have noooo wipes. I debate for a moment. I've already taken Wren out of the car and wrapped her on my hip, Jameson is whining because he got a Ninja Turtle mask and sword at the store which he is obviously wearing and is so mad that he has to wear shoes because "TURTLES DONT NEED SHOES MOMMMMY!" It's after five o'clock, I just fought rush hour traffic to get here, and I have NOTHING to cook for dinner at home. I stoically decide that CPS probably won't take my kids away for not changing a poop right away and besides I only need a few things. I ask Isla if she wanted to go home and change her diaper before we go to the store and she said, "Noooooo! I neeeeed my snacks!"
As I'm lifting her into the cart, I catch a whiff of her offensive load and think, "Oh God I am the trashy mom who takes her smelly kids grocery shopping" but, really there's no turning back now.
We were by the strawberries when it happened.
I leaned over to put the strawberries in the cart and see that Isla's back is COVERED IN SHIT. It's peeking out between her shirt and pants and as I lifted her shirt to grasp the full scope of the shitsplosion, Isla turns and I now have a palm full of ripe toddler feces.
I panic.
Jamie, I mean Raphael, sees my shit covered hand and exclaims, "Mommy is that POOOOP?"
Wren, who had been nursing at the time, unlatches, and here I am in the produce aisle of the Tigard Grocery Outlet, with one boob hanging out and holding up a fist full of crap.
It wasn't my finest moment. I can fully and truly admit that, but I looked at my cart full of groceries, and think of my bare cupboards at home and my three toddlers who are about to plow right into the pre-dinner hangry hour, and decide, fuck it.
I take Wren out of the wrap and place her haphazardly in the cart next to the chicken and ground beef, wiped all the shit I could see from my hand, Isla's back, and now the back of the grocery cart, and throw my once gorgeous, poop covered wrap on the bottom of the cart. I make my way to the check out, and to every single person we pass Isla says, "Hi, I pooped!"
I somehow make it through checkout without being arrested for public indecency or child neglect and load the kids, including poor poop covered Isla, into the car. I catch a store employee gathering carts and say, "I am SO sorry but my daughter had an accident and I think this cart should be washed." and squeal out of the parking lot like I stole something.
When we get home I usher her straight to the bathroom, and right into the tub. I get her clean and start washing her clothes and my wrap in the sink when Wrennie decides she also wants to splash. I throw her in the tub and continue my scrubbing, thinking about the giant beer I was going to drink when they went to bed. Isla's little voice squeals, "There's more poop!" I scurry to the tub thinking I can get her to the toilet in time and instead see Wren squatting over the drain and pooping straight into it, with one of her turds squishing in between her little fingers.
People, I could NOT make this up if I wanted to.
I'll spare you the rest of the details of the clean up. It involved a lot of bleach and me muttering, "Seriously? Seriously." a lot. To sum it up, I had a pretty shitty day. I'll take your official thanks for the free birth control in the form of beer. Or Lysol wipes.
