When You’re Here, You’re Family. Unless You Crap Your Pants. {Mommy’s Side}

Today’s blog post is a harrowing tale involving my first parental experience with public diarrhea. Took me 13 months to go through this parenting rite of passage but I’ve officially been christened.
This story is being told from two different perspectives: one from my side, and one from my husband’s side. Look at the bottom of this post for the link to Daddy Green’s story.

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After a quick trip to the pediatrician’s office due to some vomiting, it was determined that Nellie might have a slight stomach bug.  We brought her home for a nap and I decided to stay home from work to be with my family. When she woke up, she was acting fine & hadn’t thrown up in hours so we decided to go see about a used car. After driving 30 minutes we discovered that the car was a POS so we left. We decided to stop at Jason’s Deli for lunch.

As we pulled into the parking lot and pulled the kiddo out of her seat, I turned to Daddy Green and asked quizzically, “Is our car supposed to be hissing?”
A quick inspection of the car warranted curse words from both of us: there was a screw lodged in the rear driver’s side tire and it was losing air. Hence the hissing. We debated briefly upon what to do before driving to a tire place and telling them our dilemma. The man there told us it’d be about an hour and a half; just enough time for us to sit down to a leisurely lunch.

Little did I know that it was going to be the Lunch from Hell.

We walked across the street to Olive Garden; laden with diaper bag, purse, jacket, and squirmy toddler. The pediatrician had advised to keep Nellie on PediaLyte and bland foods all day so after getting seated, we pulled out the sippy cup and the saltine crackers. Nellie sat happily, sweeping her crackers to the floor and clapping with glee. A short while into lunch Daddy Green sniffed the air and gave me a knowing look. I leaned over and peeked down Nellie’s diaper to see that Daddy’s nose was right. I scooped her up and carried her off to the restroom where I discovered that her stool was a little loose, but I wasn’t alarmed. I got the deed done and carried her back to the table, where we finished the rest of our lunch in peace and harmony.

Dear reader.. How I wish I could write those last words and have them be true…. but I would be lying to you if I told you that. For those of you who are weak-stomached, squeamish, or can’t handle tales of baby shit.. Turn back now. Leave this post with visions of a happy family enjoying their soup and salad in peace, smiling and laughing as their daughter charmed the waitstaff.

For those of you brave enough, our story continues.

I was digging into my soup and salad when I heard Daddy Green sniff again. He looked at me pointedly and lowered his voice,
“I think someone needs another trip to the bathroom.”
“You think so?” I ask, my eyebrows raised in surprise. “Let me look.”
“You don’t need to look. I can smell it.”
I leaned toward Nellie and took a sniff and knew immediately that my husband was right. I stood up and reached down to grab my daughter…

And quickly pulled my hands back as if a snake had bit me.
My hands were wet with baby shit.
“SHE’S COVERED,” I hissed at Daddy Green who was blissfully unaware of the situation.
“Hmm?” he asked from behind his pasta.
“Lift her up BUT BE CAREFUL. IT’S ON HER SHIRT.”
Daddy Green wrinkled his nose and gingerly lifted his baby girl from the seat. I picked her up under the armpits and held her out before me as if she were a nuclear weapon that I was trying not to detonate.

Once I got to the bathroom and was able to properly assess the situation, I almost shit my own pants. I stood Nellie up on the changing table and looked her up and down. The bottom of her shirt was covered in diarrhea and her pants? Literally dripping. Dripping with yellow, watery shit. Socks, covered. Shoes were miraculously unscathed but she pretty much looked like someone had just dipped her into a vat of feces.
Okay, I thought to myself. Stay calm. You can figure this out. I began to unload the provisions I’d brought: clean clothes. Plastic bag for dirty clothes. Diap………. Where are my diapers? WHERE THE HELL ARE MY DIAPERS?

Mother. Fucker.

I was diaperless. I was baby wipeless. I stood in the bathroom of the Olive Garden trying to wrap my mind around the fact that I had no diapers or baby wipes, and was holding a wiggly toddler covered in shit. My brain was flitting about like a hummingbird on crack trying to figure out what to do first. The Hummingbird landed on: Get the dirty clothes off. I peeled off her shirt as carefully as I could, leaving a stinky trail all the way up her body to her neck. I dumped it in the bag and removed her shoes. I spread some changing table liners down and lay her on top of them, removing her soaking jeans. I feel like I remained calm and collected throughout this entire ordeal, even when my child started to writhe around on the table like a shit-covered crocodile in a death roll.

While I was undressing my stinky offspring, people were coming in and out of the bathroom.. Not even paying Nellie and I any attention. Once I had gotten Nellie down to her diaper, the real challenge began. How the fuck do I get a diaper and wipes? Also, how am I supposed to get this vile substance OFF of my kid’s body? IT WAS EVERYWHERE. I stood there holding my wiggly, crap encrusted child under the armpits for a few seconds when I made my decision. I stripped her defiled diaper off, tossed it in the trash and carried her to the sink. I plopped her down and in what has been pretty much the classiest and most glorious moment of my career as a mother thus far, I gave my daughter a bath right there in the restroom at Olive Garden. Thankfully no one came in to find me hunkered over my naked, reeking child desperately splashing water over her while she squealed with delight. Once I’d gotten most of the funk off her I took her back to the changing table where I pulled out two more of the paper liners. I wrapped them around her like some kind of makeshift hospital gown, poked my head out of the bathroom door and caught the attention of a hostess. I told her that I needed some help and asked if she’d get my diaper bag from my husband. A few moments later, she appeared and I took the bag from her, thanking her profusely.

Now that the scent of diarrhea was only faintly clinging to both my daughter and myself, it was time to get Nellie into clean clothes. By this point she was agitated and tired of my antics so she started to fuss and wiggle even more. I managed to get her dressed, get all of her soiled clothes into a  plastic bag and we were finally done. I grabbed everything and headed back to my table where my husband was still sitting, enjoying his meal. He looked at me. I looked at him. I was a woman who had seen terrible, terrible things and I think it showed on my face.
“Armageddon.” was all I could say. I handed Nellie to him and said, “Do not set her down on the high chair. We are going to have to wipe that thing down. I have to go wash my hands.”
I went off, washed my hands and returned to finish my meal. My husband had paid the tab during my harrowing ordeal in the restroom and when Nellie started to fuss, he went to take her outside. I sat and finished my salad with  my disgusting bag o’ funk at my feet.

Our car still wasn’t ready so we went to wander around Toys R’ Us. I felt like a hobo toting my diaper bag across my body, my purse over one arm, my hoodie draped over my shoulders and a bag full of shitty clothes in my hand. I wondered if anyone would stop and sniff the air and say, “What’s that smell?” I would respond, “That’s me. What you’re smelling is garlic bread, baby shit, and shame.”

When we went to retrieve our vehicle, we had to buy a brand new tire and they advised us to replace the other rear tire as well.  We were finally given the keys to our car and were able to leave. We drove home with the radio playing and the smell of soiled baby clothes gently wafting from the backseat.

We left our apartment that afternoon in hopes of getting a new car. We ended up with a belly full of pasta,  two new tires, and – literally – a bag full of shit.

Read Daddy Green’s side of the story here.

Comments

  1. You have made my day! I know exactly what you are going through, except it seeped out of her clothes and we were in the car, therefore it was ALL over her CARSEAT! And I didn't realzied I didn't have any diapers in her diaper bag. Complete Mother Fail! Glad you made out okay though! The joys of Mommyhood!

  2. I have been in your shoes. I once ran into a downtown Baby Gap holding my son only wearing a diaper and a blanket found the nearest salesperson and said "I'll take whatever you have under $50 in size 6-9 months". Welcome to the club. :-)

  3. {{ Hugs }} I have to say … way to go!

    The first diaper I ever changed (this past Christmas, lol) was diarrhea but not nearly that bad. Has made every poopy diaper since seem like a cakewalk though! Mike tells about when Benny was younger and FILLED a pair of footie pajamas from the toes up. LOL.

  4. Been there… more than once! That post made me smile. Thanks for the memories! LOL http://www.rebeccabany.com

  5. Well it sounds like Daddy Green enjoyed this experience a little bit more than you did, haha

  6. ah, baby poop. we know thee well. Hope that little one is feeling better.

    BTW, It's fitting that you misspelled assess so that it reads asses because that's where baby shit comes from. That typo had me giggling before I even got to "garlic bread, baby shit and shame", by which time, I was rolling. :-)

  7. OMGoodness, you describe the ordeal so well… I can totally relate as shit like that has happened to me since being christened as a Mom.

    Visiting from SITS, make it a great day!

  8. Oh my God I can't breathe….laughing too hard! (sorry)

    I've had a public diarrhea at a mall with an infant and 2yo…by myself. And I've had to scoop it out of an Exersaucer. Ahhh, the good old days…

  9. Oh my!! It must be something in the water! This past weekend, we took a bus to Chicago from our home, which is a 3 hour express bus ride. We had to take a bus from our town to a town in IL, and somehow, either on that bus or in the restaurant we went to in Galesburg, IL, we lost the diaper bag. We noticed this small fact while we were boarding the non stop bus towards Chicago. We just decided to get diapers when we arrived, since we had no choice anyway. Well a half an hour into this bus ride, both the hubs and I smelled.. well you know what odor coming from our little ones pants. It wasn't bad, and no one else noticed so we thought maybe we would squeak by… Fast forward- we are like 15 mins from Chicago and that little smell has multiplied and run rampant in the entire bus. The whole bus stank! Breathing through your mouth is the only option in situations like this, by the way. So we apologize to the entire bus upon arrival, and got into the nearest cab as soon as our suitcases hit the ground. After having the cab drive to 5 different Walgreens ( why do they close at 10 on a friday night, what happened to 24 hour Walgreens?) we found one that was open, and I took the little stink bomb in there with the intent of buying the diapers and changing her in the restroom. Great plan, except this Walgreen's bathroom was closed. So I begged the store's manager for a corner, chair anything so I could change my child. She let me use the chairs by the pharmancy.. and we had a blowout very similar to yours.. except I didn't have a sink! Thankfully I had an extra bag to dump clothes in, and enough wipes to get her clean. As soon as we got to our hotel, she took a bath. So I feel your pain, and think you did better then I in that situation

  10. LOL!!! I love you and Nelly! So glad I have managed to escape that mommy trial so far. If it makes you feel any better though AGAIN today Jensen pooped in the bath tub. Not as mortifying but just as nasty having to scoop it all out!

  11. HAHAHAHA! Okay, I am seriously laughing with tears! I've had very similar experiences a few times and all you can do is laugh about it later…much later 😉

  12. OMG, what a nightmare! I laughed so hard while reading your story and I still have tears running out of my eyes. You did a great job under the circumstances, although I still can't let go of the vision of you washing your naked toddler in the sink of an Olive Garden restroom. LMFAO!

  13. I think the second time I would have handed her to daddy! I swear men are behind the fact there are no changing tables in their bathrooms! The worst is when its a onsie and trying to pull that gross thing over the poor baby's head! I think you did pretty well there dear. I'm exhausted after reading that, I'm sure you were pooped, pardon the pun!

    Megan

  14. That has SO happened to us. The difference is, I send hubs in to do the hazmat duties while I blissfully eat my food.

    Although one time my daughter leaked through her outfit and all over her infant carrier at this indoor playground and I had neither diaper nor wipes and she was an infant so there was no sitting her in the tub, i had to hold her with one hand and try to detox her with the other.

    Good times.

  15. eeeek! I've definitely had similar experiences, but nothing quite that tragic. I call that a war story, friend.
    ~C~

  16. LMAO our first adventure as parents with public diarrhea was also at Olive Garden HOW funny! our daughter was about the same age, there was NO baby changing table and I hadn't packed a spare set of clothes. My husband actually sent the waitress into the restroom to look for me cause he thought I ran away. fun times.

  17. Hilarious!!! Thanks for stopping by my blog!

  18. Loved this story & boy can I relate to the havoc that poop-gone-awry can create when not in the comfort of your own home. I don't have any kids of my own…but I worked at a group home for people with developmental disabilities for several years when I was younger. Where am I going with this, you may be asking? We changed teenagers standing in bathroom stalls or lying in backseats of suana-like vans who had similar bouts of diarrhea at times. No benefit of using a changing table or plopping their hineys in the sink. Either by squeezing three people (two staff) in a stall to accomplish the feat or by draping blankets and towels over windows to maintain some privacy as we were sweating our asses off in the summertime when we were nowhere near a bathroom. I tell you this not to complain or to strip the dignity of those we were changing, but to awe you with our brief-changing rockstar abilities. : )

    em.

  19. expatmamaintoronto says:

    I literally have tears streaming down my face. This is one of the funniest things I have read in a long time. My daughter shits through her diaper on a semi-daily basis. I have tried everything. Different brands, sizes, changing like 20 times a day- nothing stops it. As soon as she gets the "I'm about to shit" look on her face, I get the sweats and have to charge toward her room to try to strip her beautiful clothes off so they don't get ruined. Virtually every outfit gets soaked in baby oxyclean in my house.

    Anyway- just stopping by from UBP11. You are hillarious. Looking forward to following you. I might have to blog about this topic soon. Thanks for the inspiration. :)

    Swing by and say "hi" if you have time!

Trackbacks

  1. […] you, skip past this post and read about something else like my wine review or the time my kid got diarrhea in public and I had to give her a bath in the sink at the Olive Garden. Also, I apologize if you’re one […]

  2. […] one ever told me that one day, I would be elbow-deep in baby diarrhea and bathing her in the sink. At Olive Garden. In the middle of the […]

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