If you haven’t read my first Poopmageddon post I highly recommend starting there. If I were to rate the experiences, the first was by far worse overall but this one was worse for me personally.
Spoiler alert: I touched the poop…a lot.
So early December my husband, 2 kids, and I went to visit family in Arizona.
On the car ride out there it was pouring. We are in the middle of nowhere. We hear from the back…
“I have to poop…NOW!”
Followed by some wimpering and whining. My husband and I look at each other in terror. He says,
“Don’t be mad. I think the travel potty is under EVERYTHING in the back.”
“Well sucks for you, he will just have to squat.”
We exit the highway to what could be a scene from a horror movie. All we can see is desert, rain, and two big rigs taking a rest. My husband jumps out as I try and get my son to relax and hold it. Husband manages to retrieve the travel potty. My son sits on it. He then precedes to pee and announce:
“False alarm…no poop!”
And there you have it… the end.
JUST KIDDING! If you think that qualifies as a poopmageddon, clearly you have not read my previous post!
Silly us. We thought we dodged a bullet and would have smooth sailing. Little did we know that the original King of Bad Poop Timing would not be the culprit of Poopmegeddon 2.0.
It would be his little sister.
So my daughter is about 20 months at the time of this trip. Still in diapers but very curious about the potty. Sometimes she asks to go and sits on the potty (usually fully dressed) and pretends, very proud of herself. Other times she stands at the toilet – mimicking her dad and brother – lifts her shirt, and pretends pee comes out her belly button. Adorable…most of the time.
Second night of the trip. We have had a lovely dinner and are winding down.
Our aunt we are visiting is dealing with some medical issues and has been a trooper. We decide we are going to stick around for our uncle to return from the airport with our cousin before we take the kids back to the hotel for bedtime. Said aunt says, “Ok I’m ready for a rest” and gets cozy on the couch.
In hindsight, this moment of calm could have been a warning to us that a child was going to have bad timing any moment.
My daughter pulls down her pants and undoes her diaper saying “poo-poo, poo-poo.” She starts walking towards the bathroom. We all look at the cuteness and I decide to oblige. Since she has her pants around her ankles and I don’t want her to fall on the tile, I sort of half pick her up with her body against mine and hurry to the bathroom for the pretend ritual on the toilet.
Then it begins….
As I look down I realize that there is actually “poo-poo” in the diaper from before she took it off. I’m not quite panicked yet, but worried we might have got some poop on the tile so I call to my husband for back up.
Then I see it.
Poop. All over me. Everywhere.
She must’ve not been done and/or had poop stuck on her butt which I put against me to carry her to the bathroom.
I am no longer calmly calling for my husband. I am screaming for all hands on deck help.
The 20 month old is gleefully unaware that anything is wrong and wants to play.
I start the bath and become a military commander during a special ops shouting orders.
“We need towels, clorox wipes, plastic bags, hazmat suits, hurry!”
By the way I have no idea what the 3 year old is doing at this point, but I’m just praying someone sat him in front of a new toy or electronic to keep him out of trouble while the three adults deal with Poopmageddon.
When I have a moment to breathe, I immediately regret it. I am gagging. It smells and it is on my pants, socks, and hands. Yes, you heard me, on my hands!!
UGH thank God I love this little hurricane of a child.
The positive ending to the first Poopmageddon was free alcohol on the flight. This time it was that we got everything cleaned up before our uncle and cousin arrived home and I scored an awesome pair of work out pants! My aunt said,
“Here, these pants make me feel claustrophobic you can keep them.”
They suck my post-two-kids legs in all the right places and they have a phone pocket. I wear them all the time!
So I learned a lesson to always check a diaper being taken off by a toddler even if they say it is empty.
We laughed about this one a lot quicker than the first. I did need a lot of lotion for my chapped hands that I scrubbed like I was about to perform open heart surgery. All in all, we handled the poop-tastrophy quite well.
Mom (and dad and aunt) for the win!!
Have you ever experienced a poop-pocalypse? Let me know your family’s poopmageddon stories in the comments below!