Just Call Me the Poop Cleaner

 I started writing this post a few weeks ago when I was at Mothers - and am just now finishing it up.  What I'm trying to say, this is old news.

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I finally made it to the local creamery this week. It was much anticipated - and when things are much anticipated, they taste 31 times better.

A friend and I sat on a table and watched Ed play with the trucks.  And then we watched him poop.  (he was wearing a pull-up)  And we cheered him on, it being the 4th day of no poo.  And we were so thankful that he wasn't wearing his man-unders.  Win win for everyone.

We were finally done licking and chatting, and I decided it was time to go - put Ed to bed since it was dusk.

Now, my friend and I drove separately, and she scurried off - not having a child to drag behind her and such.  But I had a child to drag behind me.  And so began the process.

In my prideful heart, I decided that I was going to have much more success with having Ed obey and come to me when I called to him that it was time to go.  (When we went to get ice cream a few days prior, Big D did not have much success with looking like he was in charge)

So, I authoritatively called Ed to me - and we all know that pride goeth before a fall . . . .  which ended up with me chasing him around like a typical woodchuck brat.  Eventually I grabbed his hand and began the long march to the car which also entailed a tongue lashing.

But my tongue lashing was interrupted when I happened to glance down.
 

Just to help with the visual - Ed was wearing these shoes and pants.

And when I glanced down, I was startled to see a brown glob, the size of a doughnut hole just sitting nicely on top of his shoe.  Upon further investigation and smell, I discovered that it was a shit bomb.

All in about 3.0487 seconds I went through an array of emotions.  Horror, helplessness, hysteria, disgust, and gumption.  I looked up in just enough time to see my friend's tail lights turn on as she sped away.  And realized that I had to go into no-man's-land by myself, with whatever tools I had in my car.

I'm outside, which is a good thing.  But there is no bathroom to hide the unpleasantries of what's going to happen next, which is a bad thing.  This ice cream shop is a business after all. And the only thing I can do to help save all the other guests stomachs, is to open a car door and try to hide behind it.

The problem being:

1)  Ed thought it was now a game of peek-a-boo.

2)  I was not hidden from all the new guests driving in, since we were in the fielded parking lot.

I ended up finding a few half-dried wipe-ups, a bag, and diaper in the car.  For you parents out there, you know how pleasant and lovely it is to take a pair of pants off that is filled with poop.  The sort-of gross mess turns into a full-fledged mud slide.  It's one of those things where it gets worse before it gets better.  And by worse, I mean stooping to the lowest level of humility and humanity.

As I peeled his pants down, it was as if I was in the middle of a boulder avalanche.  Except they were poop boulders.  Flying and splattering. And then I had to make the awful moral decision of using my few dried out wipe-ups to clean up the poop pies in the grass where lots of customers park and walk, or use them on Ed who needed to get into my car to get home.

 I hate making grown-up decisions.  Especially poopy decisions.

 I poopied-scooped the parking lot and then smeared and smeared Ed's butt with my 2 remaining dried wipe-ups.  Not a corner remained white.  I reduced, reused, and recycled those wipes.  Al Gore would have been proud.

It was awful.  Poop was everywhere.  Including up to my elbows and under my fingernails.  And Ed was laughing and still playing peek-a-boo.  And I then had to pack up all that poop and put it into my car.  And pray that the cops weren't called on me.  And cross my fingers that I found all the BM boulders.  And keep my eyes down to not make eye contact.

And I slithered into my car where I grumbled and roared all the way home.  Because this WAS going to be a night where I didn't have to give Ed a bath. . . . .  And all because he bomb shot himself . . . .

I think I was grumpier about the bath giving then the poop cleaning.

Take Aways

1)  Always make sure that you have diapers, wet wipes, and bags if you go ANYWHERE with children.

2)  Never expect to not have to do something.  Because it is inevitable that you'll have to do it anyway.

3)  Also, carry elbow-high rubber gloves with your diaper supplies.

4)  And maybe a privacy curtain.

5)  A power washer?

6)  Or, just leave the babies at home.