I Have Been Shat Upon Before, but Today Takes the Cake

Here's a little something that happened on September 19th.

My oldest child is so psychic, and this story alone will sound like a silly way to say so, but let’s just leave it at that.

So today, after a couple of quick conference calls, we went to see the Animal Guys . (more on this and animal consciousness soon). Our playgroup had arranged for them to come to the park for a potluck show, and one of the other children was having a birthday party with a bounce house, too. It was cool and definitely educational for all, especially my daughter, since we are studying mammals.

Now, my youngest, who will be two in November, was in full potty training mode, refusing to wear diapers and such. I’d been indulging her for a couple of days and putting her in big-girl pants. She had been making it to the potty for the most part. I didn't use this video to train her:



As we approached the park, she started to yell “pee pee” while still in her car seat, so I told her we were almost there and to hold it. After we parked, I got all three kids out of their car seats (yes, even my 6-year-old) and we headed for the bathrooms. The older two were walking like snails, grabbing sticks and so on as children do, so I said, “Please hurry up or she’s gonna pee on my shirt.” My oldest said, “Mommy, you always pack us extra clothes, but you never pack any for yourself. Maybe you should.” “Good idea,” I said, but I’d never really needed one before, so I wasn’t really planning to follow through. (I did think it was a good idea, though).

Fast forward two hours and 10 trips to the bathroom made every time the one-who-is-now-fascinated-with-all-things-toilet-related yells “PEE PEE!” Mothers with 3-year-olds in pull-ups looked on with envy. I was a little proud, even though I had nothing to do with the early urge to potty train.

Well, somewhere between bounce house and birthday cake, I swooped my little one up for some reason (no idea) and plopped her on my hip, as usual, when yucky, hot, runny something landed upon my waist. I didn’t even have to look. I didn’t even want to know. I asked another mom to keep an eye on the older two and headed to the bathroom, pooh all over my hand and under my fingernails.

Too bad my eldest hadn’t had her little premonition about me needing a change of clothes, oh say, a day earlier. Poop was everywhere. Lots of it. Everywhere. I never understand how such little people can produce so much poop.

So, there I was, topless(and getting the top off without getting crap in my hair was no small endeavor) in a Los Angeles public bathroom with my naked baby, both of us covered in a river of crap. Literally. Luckily, I had clothes for her. I, on the other hand, had to wash my shirt out in the sink, during which time a nanny type came in with a baby. She initially looked at me stark-eyed like I was a homeless woman getting ready for the day, but then seemed to realize what happened.

Anyway, I could go on with all the gruesome details, but let’s suffice it to say that I’m glad it was warm out as I went back out to the gathering in my wet t-shirt and let’s all thank God it wasn’t white, or I would have been trapped in the bathroom for a while.

I have been shat upon before, but that was a pooh-athon to beat all pooh-athons.