If you get grossed out easily, you may as well stop reading now. Seriously. But if you want to laugh at me so you feel better about yourself, then today is your day. You are hitting the jackpot.
It all happened Friday at Olivia's toddler class. We have a routine of pottying BEFORE leaving the house, but since Olivia is in the "I can do it by myself and I know more than you" stage at age 3- that didn't happen Friday. This kid was farting like mad all morning- I knew it was only a matter of time before something other than air came out. So we drive to school- the van smells so bad I'm driving with the window cracked and it was -6 that morning. I'm freezing, Jackson is crying, Olivia stinks.
We get to school, take off our winter gear after running as fast as we could into the building because of course there was no available parking anywhere close. That morning I had the prescence of mind to pack a pair of pants and panties for Olivia in my purse along with Jackson's required junk. I NEVER do this, because I can't handle clutter in my purse- but I just grabbed them without thinking. So we get there, and I insist on pottying before going into class. We get to the adult bathrooms, which is a one stall room with a door in the hallway that locks. First off, it's got the air vents so it's loud- so Jackson starts crying. It has the auto flush thing, so now both kids are crying. Do you think I had anything to put on there? No- so I figured we'll have to cry it out. I get Olivia on the potty. I'm holding her with one arm (she's afraid she'll fall in) and in my other arm I'm holding a 20 pound wriggling baby boy desperate for the trash can and I'm squating. My thighs are burning, Jackson is slipping, Olivia is refusing to perform here. I give up. We finish up getting dressed again, go to class.
Olivia is warming up to the new kids, Jackson is thrilled that they have a bumpy ball that he's trying to bounce. Then she comes over, proclaims loudly, "Momma, I pooped." Seriously. I saw red mist in my eyes, and I have other parents looking at me, waiting for a reaction. Being the patient mom I am, I'm trying to act cheery and that it's no big deal, etc while inside I'm thinking of how I could bang my head into the wall without a second thought. So we HUSSLE to the bathroom. Of course she can't run because she's got poop the size of a damn softball in her pants, she's waddling fast.
We get there, and I realize that it's huge. It requires a full pants and panty change. I'm pissed. Jackson is crying because he knows we're in the bathroom and he hates it. I had to succomb to every urge in my body and sit him on the floor. I tried really hard not to gag at the thought of the stuff on that floor. So now he's playing, but crying. I get Olivia's pants off- poop falls on the floor. Of course. Jackson dives for it, is now playing with it. Olivia's screaming and I'm literally gagging. Anyone who knows me knows that I do NOT handle pee, poop or vomit well. Really, I just can't do it. So I grab the poop out of his hands, he starts screaming. I grab my wipes which are mysteriously covered in what looks like Vaseline. Strange, because I don't own Vaseline- I try not to think about what it is, but grab the wipes. I'm washing Jack in the sink with one hand, with him propped up on my knee and with my other hand, wiping Olivia's butt. Then, she steps in more poop that I didn't see. Fucking great. So I get Jack clean, Olivia clean, she's getting clothes back on. I am now trying to clean her shoe. I realize I have poop on my shirt courtesy of Jack. Fucking super. So now I stink, both kids are crying, the toilet is flushing non stop, and I can only imagine what the school secretary was thinking because her office is right outside the bathroom door.
All the while, I'm explaining to Olivia why we don't poop in our pants, and how gross that is, etc. Then I realize what the hell am I going to do with the dirty panties? I usually have a Ziploc bag with me, but of course- I don't have one. I settled on wrapping them up in the dirty pants, shoving them in my purse. I turn my shirt inside out in the hopes to cover up the poop smell that is still there. The stain is useless- I need a heavy duty spray for that.
We go back to class and at the end, we leave. We get in the van. I realize that everything smells like poop. Seriously. I can't find the culprit, but dammit- I know it's there, something smells. Guess what it was? There was a left over poop ball in her panties, which somehow got smeared on my cell phone, wallet and checks. Super. This is in my brand new Coach bag. (OK, so it's a Coach from a flea market with a faulty zipper that I paid under $50 for. It's still a Coach, though). I had to come home and scrub that purse out to get the smell out.
What a horrible day. It really capped off my week of poop hell. Jackson had the grossest poop EVER every morning last week and with Matt at work, it leaves me alone to deal with it as I'm trying to get out the door by 6:30 a.m. Sorry to gross you out, but I had to vent to someone. :)