Poop Story

I have a couple of friends who have a mom blog--you know, one of the real blogs--the kind people actually read and whatnot. Anyway, a while back they were doing this "talk back" post for poop stories. I remember Ben was like a couple of months old, and the best I could do was when he was a newborn and he had like five huge poops within an hour.

Ha. Naive. I have a real one now.

Note: This post is not for the weak-stomached.

Today we went to Wild Rivers. Our friend had spent a pile of money or something on car repairs, and so he got four tickets to the water park. Um, score? Anyway, since it's one of those things we would never be able to do without a hook-up, we were in. Matt took an extra long lunch, I picked him up from work on the way there (he works nearby), and we had ourselves a water-rific day. The kids had a blast splashing in the many wading pools and sprinklers and sliding down the little slides. Matt left at about noon to go back to work while the rest of us stayed to play. Around 2:00 Brandi thought she saw something in the water that shouldn't have been there. Something brown, if you catch my drift. On a whim I checked my child's swim diaper. Crap. Literally. Crap. And not just a normal chunk of crap. Runny, sticky, diarrhea crap. Yep. My friends weren't really ready to leave, but clearly Ben was. So they went on the lazy river while Ben and I did the walk of shame back to our belongings. Which were kinda far. So I'm carrying him, awkwardly because I don't want poop to get everywhere, except that unbeknown-st to me it was getting everywhere anyway. We were leaving kind of a trail. Of poop. So I grabbed my backpack, and Ben was asking me to sing. So I started singing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star," because it's Ben's favorite. He was singing with me, and so there we were, walking through the water park to the bathroom singing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" and leaving a trail of poop behind us. Of course in my mortification and quickness to get it all over with, I left our shoes behind. So we went into the bathroom area barefoot, leaving our trail of feces. The changing table was not in the bathroom, but right outside it, right there for the entire park to watch. Which they were all definitely doing. And all these parents were watching me and my little boy and his trail of poop, watching us with their judgmental eyes and dirty stares, and all I could think was a) this needs to end, and b) GOD WILL JUDGE YOU FOR JUDGING ME. You know, cause I made my kid poop in the pool. So we get to the very public changing table, all the while singing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star," over and over. I dug through the bag for the wipes, which of course I'd forgotten. So I just grabbed my towel and started wiping. It was everywhere. Down his legs, up his arms and back, on my arms. EVERYWHERE. I got him out of his suit the best I could without getting it in his hair--I mean, it's not like I could even take him over to the showers and rinse off the poop there. Because there were lifeguards standing by those showers, and at this point I'm pretty sure everyone there was giving me and my poop-covered child the evil-eye. So I just sang "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" and wiped the poop off of us with my blue towel. Then I had to wipe off the changing table with the poopy towel, still holding my butt-naked kid because I was afraid if I put him down he'd dart into the very nearby pool and really piss everyone off. I dug out a clean diaper, shirt, and shorts. I had to lay him directly down on the changing table, which had just been covered in poop, because my towel was covered in poop and I didn't have any disposable pads. I put his clothes on him, took off my tank and shorts (which I had thankfully worn over my swimsuit) right there in front of all the little boys who were going in and out of the bathroom because did I mention this changing area was not actually in the bathroom but next to it and right out in the open. I did a quick check for any missed poop, still singing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star." We still smelled like poop, but there wasn't much I could do about that. So I collected our things and went back to our shoes and waited for our friends to get out of the lazy river, still singing and trying to control a 29 pound kid who was desperately trying to get free and get back into the pool. Eventually we managed to leave, but not before whispering to my sweet, tired, little boy that I didn't judge him or care that he pooped in the pool--he's still my favorite.

The End.