Friday, March 23, 2012

Fridays aren't supposed to be crappy!

DISCLAIMER:  If 'poop talk' makes you squeamish or you think it's gross and shouldn't be discussed, do not read any further!!!


OK, if you're still with me, then you are like me and a funny story about bodily functions grabs your attention and lightens your world a little bit with humor.  So here we go with my latest escapades with a potty-trained almost-2-year-old.

Autie and I had a great morning, and then lunch at Panera Bread, followed by a quick hop into Rue 21 for an Easter present for Camryn, and a glance at shoes in Famous Footwear due to $15 off coupons I had been saving.  So probably an hour or so later, we head back to the van before running into Target for a few groceries, and lo and behold, I can't find my keys.  Yep, a glance in the window confirms that somehow, they never made it into my purse and are sitting there on the van seat.  (Yes Janice, I know.. I should have had an extra key made...)

I call Todd twice.  (Usually one call from me during the day and he assumes it is a 'butt call' because I never call him on his phone, always text.  Two calls usually means I need to talk to him.)  No answer.  OK... so I text him... no answer.. must be in a meeting, I think.  Hmmmm....

So I text Taylor, since she is the only one with a Momma and Autie transport device and a key to the house.  She calls, says she will check out... which I have to ok 10 minutes later with the office at school... and come and get me.

Now all we need is a car seat for Autie, since her's is strapped in the locked van.  Oh well, I think, either I will bring it back tonight when we come back for the van, OR I will just keep it if it's not too expensive because we really need two of them.

We enter Target, and Autie tells me she's got to potty.  No problem.  YEA!  She poops... better out than in, I always say.  We wipe, wash hands, on to business.

We scoop up a handful of things we need (forgetting coffee for in the morning as we are out.. DAMN ME IF I FORGET LATER TO GET COFFEE!!!)<-hoping this helps me remember!
And I must also scoop up Autie and place her on my hip so we can get our butts through the checkout and outside to wait for Tay.

So there I stand, waiting to enter my PIN on the debit card machine, when... I smell poop.
Now, I know she had pooped in the potty, and it was a pretty massive amount for a little body, so I'm thinking MAYBE I didn't wipe as good as I thought?  Surely whatever is left is residual...

Autie stays on the hip (amen I had the sense to know she wouldn't want to get in the buggy and left her on the hip) and we head to the door.  As we exit, I switch hips, and lordy me...
on my white t shirt are skid marks... (let me say Autie had on a skirt with the little pants underneath today).  Obviously what I thought was just a butt crack smell is much more (yes, Miss Brandee, Autie and I were both smelling "Buttish!"), and I've already switched hips.. So once I get out of the door and away from the pedestrian traffic entering the store, I put Autie on the sidewalk and look down.  YEP... my other hip is just as nasty.  I proceed to look on her thighs, in the back of her skirt and there it is... the mess that I squished upon putting her on my hip, which went through the pant legs of the skirt and was threatening to go up her back.

And let me remind you I am locked out of my van, have no wipes, no extra clothes, and am waiting waiting for Taylor...
with a carseat I intend to return, possible...
with a kid with poop everywhere..
and with myself, equally full of crap, literally because dammit, I can't make this stuff up.

Autie plays in the puddles.. i think, hey at least it quit raining.. and we are both smiling.
Tay drives up and I send her inside for wipes, cuz there is no wiping this off with the napkins from Panera Bread nor the 18 rolls of Charmin I just bought.
we need clean wetness.. maybe I could have dipped her in a puddle?  Didn't think of that...

Taylor comes back out with the wipes, and I proceed to the back of her car with a Target bag for reinforcement to lay her on (lord help us if poop gets into the carpet of Tay's trunk), the wipes, a Target bag for disposal and catching of poopy clothes.. and I proceed to clean my sweet baby girl as best I can and as quickly as I can before my back breaks from being bent over.
So I am trying to meld into the trunk and be inconspicuous, when I hear the squeaky wheels of a buggy approaching.  "please don't talk to me.. or better yet, please don't look this way".. knowing that the poop undoubtedly is showing through my rolled up white t shirt, and hoping my daughter's poopy butt isn't pointed her way.

The woman.. YES!.. proceeds to talk to me.
How does Taylor say that "There goes Momma.. talking to random strangers again."
(Maybe this will make me think twice about talking to 'random strangers'.. maybe they don't want to have a conversation with me while cleaning up a serious mess.)

The lady says "Well that's an interesting use of a trunk."
I say "Well, whatever works sometime, right?"
(not enough for her, evidentally)

She says, "Yeah, when my kids were little, that's why I always had a big station wagon."
I look and smile and say "That was a good idea." (I think that's what I said.. please tell me I didn't say "Can we just not talk right now??")

She finally gets in and drives away, I finish with Autie and put her clean new pair of Elmo panties on (at least we had bought THAT while in Target), put her in the car seat (which is new and I had to figure out how to adjust to fit her.. sheese) and I get in and we drive off, in poor Taylor's car, who gets grossed out by bodily functions of any kind lately.  Oh well, yet another one of those days we both won't forget.

OH and I have to add this.. almost forgot.. I get home to wash all of this nastiness and, whatdayah know?  The fancy washing machine that the home owners left in this house has a setting on "Stain Inspectors"  for "Personal Stains" and THEN a LIST! of which "feces" is one!  LMAO!

And for a refresher on the last time this happened to us, ironically also when I locked the keys in the van, read this: Wanna Hear About My Crappy Morning?

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