Wednesday, July 23, 2008

the scoop on poop

alternate title MUCH ADO ABOUT POO

seriously, what kind of mom would i be if i didn't have a post devoted to poop. everyone knows that new moms are obsessed with poop although maybe not as much as with the practice first child. and while inspecting poop has been an important consideration for jack's life thus far, what with the poo being the major clue to his milk allergy, the poop story that really takes the cake was from mackenzie's infancy.

be grateful that you have the option of reading this post, as opposed to hearing it in person, because although this happened two years ago i am still raging mad enough about it that i may spit when telling the story verbally.

yes, i am a spitter who talks about poop. jay is a lucky, lucky man.

i remember the day well. it was a clear, sunny day in april 2006. the family was destined to take a walk that day, but the new parents would certainly not allow a cold breeze to redden the cheeks of their perfectly normal colored cheeked cherub. so naturally, mall-walking was most logical conclusion.
back in those days my daughter was always pristinely dressed. (that is not to say my attire wasn't the usual jeans-and-tee-and-dark-eye-circles-and-ponytail-momsuit.) mackenzie was wearing a brand-new two piece watermelon outfit. the laces of her tiny socks were perfectly folded over her ankles, showing off her brand-new brown suede mary janes. i had been saving the outfit for an occassion where lots of people would see her and fawn over her and go home and tell all their friends and family that they had seen the cutest little angel in all the land!

i put so much energy into making my baby cute enough to shame all other mall-walking parents into believing that my baby was indeed cuter than theirs, that i should have known that poop horror would soon ensue.

(insert menacing doom music here)

we parked in the spot closest to the door because it was the perfect day, and i gingerly removed the immaculate stroller from the trunk.

i interrupt this post to bring you sibling rivalry in its purest form: sib 2 outdoing sib 1 when it has been made clear that it shouldn't be possible. whilst approaching the climax of kenzie's poo story i heard quite a rumble from mr. jack. so i proceeded to gather him and a clean diaper, and a stash of wipes to do the dirty work and carry on with my blogging. but instead i lifted my little sweetie from his seat in the exersaucer and checked the back of his onsie for leaking. i was quite pleased to find the back of him unscathed, but my relief soon turned to horror when i noticed a tan colored substance dripping from his foot, because the explosion occurred in the front instead. i'll spare the rest of the descriptive details and just say that it was bad enough to warrant not only an immediate bath, but a pre-rinse cycle, a mid-bath tub scrubbing, and me desperately enlisting in the help of two toddlers who's relentless hopes for juice boxes and play-doh were majorly inhibiting the pace in which i was trying to work. because, you see, in my haste to get that dirty baby into the tub without pooping up every other surface in the house, i had not enough arms to gather a towel, washcloth, or the infant tub, (which is now in the tub covered in bleach, with complete disregard to the non-bleachable anti-slip baby sponge thingie built into it), and needed the sticky little hands of the other children in my house to get them for me. then the drying, diapering, feeding and the putting to sleep of the baby, followed by rinsing and laundering of the fecal surfaces, finding entertainment for the older kids, crying to my mother on the phone about it, and here i am back at my post in front of the laptop in a kid-free and sanitary environment to finish the stinking (pun intended) story that i came here to tell in the first place.
this really just happened. i shit you not. (again with the pun.)
that's what i get for the menacing doom music!
but since i'm a pro at this by now, my all white oufit is still all white.

so where were we. oh yes. gingerly.
so at any rate the stroller was perched in wait next to the car, and i scoop kenz out of the carseat to begin our jolly stroll, and noticed the stickiness of her first, and thus began an experience similar to the aforementioned one that just happened but worse since it lacked the proper bathing apparatuses.

it was a situation where i could not put her down, and could not hold her with dignity. instead i held her out in front of me as though she were just a regular baby covered in poo and not my little precious, and marched in that stance across the parking lot and into macy's, leaving jay fumbling behind me with the stroller, my purse and the various baby luggage that first time parents feel so compelled to bring along on every outing.

luckily, this was not my first trip to the mall, and i knew that the closest bathroom was right around the corner past gift wrap. so off the two of us went, (kenz and i), past the scowling 20 something gift wrap girl looking on in disgust, to the ladies room to assess the damage.
oh, the damage!

as it turned out, the damage was enough MUCH to jay's dismay, that he would not only need to participate in the hosing off of our baby, but he would need to do so from the woman's bathroom.
this was the first heinous poop explosion of our parenthood, and four hands were not enough. we needed a place to put the poo clothes that would not require further clean up, as our only supplies were stiff brown paper towels and hand soap, and would not transfer poo to everything else in our suitcase diaper bag, (and the changing table thingie that pulls down from the wall were at least a half mile away from said items.)
i'll get a plastic bag from gift bag lady, i thought to myself. SURELY she will give me a bag.
but giftwrap lady was a disgruntled employee who was just waiting for the moment to abuse her giftwrap authority, and was obviously straight from hell not a mother.

"we don't have plastic bags here" she said straightfaced, to me, the mother she just saw carry her poopy, indignant baby to the bathroom. that is what she said to me as she stood in front of a case of plastic bags, clearly visible from where i was standing.
" i see some right behind you. i just need one for my baby's dirty clothes" i say, giving her the benefit of the doubt.
"those are for paying customers."


the man standing in line behind me grunted and offered the woman a quarter to cover the expense of one friggin bag, and she reiterated that i would need to buy something, eliciting my white-trashiness and no class for all to see.
"LADY, i am not walking around this store for 20 minutes to find the cheapest piece of overpriced plastic costume jewelry i can find, and spending $30 on a plastic bag to rescue my husband and child from the bathroom. i don't need a pretty pink bow on it, just a regular plastic bag that will contain poopy clothes."

no dice.

but damned if i was leaving macy's with shitty clothes in my hand, and damned if i would throw away a brand new outfit, so instead of standing there wasting more time while i heard my child run out of patience in the next room, i simply marched behind the shoe counter and helped myself to several plastic friggin bags, and said "thank you, KATIE, for all your help, but i have it covered now."

and don't you know that in the massive diaper bag that we brought with us, the only change of clothes in there was a scraggly hand-me-down pair of pink footie pajamas. so off we strolled, albiet not as gingerly, to go on our walk around the mall.
and ran into just about everyone we have ever met, who probably regarded our sloppily dressed, and probably not so sweet smelling baby as merely average.

i'm still so mad about it! my blood pressure has risen considerably in the past few minutes. (don't even get me going on mother-in-law stories or i may have a heart attack!)
my only regret to this day is that i didn't think to smash the outfit poop-side-down on katie's gift wrap desk and say "betcha wish you gave me that bag now!" before heading off towards payless.

just like i still regret not throwing a lasagna at my mother-in-law on christmas day 2005, but that's a story for another day. i was serious about the blood-pressure thing. and the spitting.


MadMad said...

Damn - that's a story. And you should call her manager. What a jerk! May Karma bring her many, many leaky diapers some day.

Dawn said...

My blood boils for you when I remember that story! ICK! ICK! ICK! I mean the gift wrap girl not the poopy diaper.


Beverly said...

Geez, Brittainy. My blood pressure went up just reading about it.

I think we need to gather forces and go after that girl. I don't care if it was two years ago.