It started out as a great day. A meetup with my sweet friend and her Mom, a play date for the boys and an opportunity for them to meet baby ninja. I even made hot cocoa and cookies, people. Because I was still on maternity leave and had my stuff together…mistake #1.
It was a successful, relaxing, joyful day. Then it came time to pack everyone up and roll on home. That’s when I quickly realized bad things had happened. In my distracted stupor of visiting and nursing, and just having some much needed ‘adult’ time, I hadn’t checked the boy’s pull up. And he hadn’t bothered to mention any urgent matters. I could hear it way up high. Karma was laughing her crack off right about now.
Mistake #2: Apparently, sugar overload from cookies and cocoa makes your insides turn to ooze. And it is forced to leak out in copious amounts. So much so that it saturates pull-ups and jeans. Who knew?!
Armed with wipes and a pull-up, off we went to the public restroom. Aahhh. My heart raced a little just typing that. But really, how bad could it be? I took the handicapped stall because I was selfish and wanted plenty of room to work my clean-up magic. I locked the door and began to survey the damage. It was then I grasped the gravity of the situation. Seriously, it was worse than I ever could have imagined. But I had plenty of wipes, right? Mistake #3.
I stripped him down. As much as it made me cringe, I had to remove shoes and socks to contain the mess. Lord knows I didn’t have an extra pair of socks and a pair of shoes in my arsenal! I only have two kids. Preparedness like that only comes with four + kids. I will never achieve that hardcore level.
My OCD germ freak-a-leak self was having a fit right about then. Because germs! Public restroom= germ overload. So there we were, my bare-bottomed boy and I on the bathroom floor, breaking the law since we are in the only handicap-accessible stall. And I’m dumping poo sludge into the toilet bowl, feverishly wiping…whoah. This is taking way more wipes than I had anticipated. What if someone walks in?! I start sweating. And the poor janitor. I can’t just leave this nastiness. Armed with a small ziploc, I maneuverd with much prowess, the offending pull-up into the bag, and sealed its stench forever. That didn’t do much to unclog the toilet though, now riddled with skid marks and what seemed like an entire container of wipes. And yet, there was still poo to clean. It was everywhere. And I was down to TWO WIPES. Oh, the suspense!
At least I had a pair of backup jeans in the car. It WAS December, you know. What kind of mom wouldn’t have an emergency pair stowed away in her SUV? Mistake #4.
I swiftly cleaned up the rest of the mess, put a fresh pull-up on and rejoiced at having his socks and shoes back on. I may have also vowed to bleach his feet when we got home.
Relieved no one walked in during that whole debacle, we exited the bathroom and headed for the car, him donning a sweatshirt and well, a pull-up. A little ghetto, but it worked. Remember I said mistake #4?!!
I feverishly searched for the backup pants. Only to discover there were NO back up pants. That’s what having a toddler and a newborn does to you- I was one sleepy, brain-fogged mama who should have known by now that not planning for disaster basically GUARANTEES it will strike. When will I learn?!