Friday, September 21, 2012

Good God, here's hoping it's the last post about poop

*I've got to warn you: If you don't like reading about kids' poop, stop reading. If you do not want to read a mom "go off" about poop and gross-ness and the lack of patience that is ever-present with every change of a poopy diaper at this point, stop reading.

There may be a way to sugar coat this one. But I'm not even gonna try. 

Let me begin by saying Libby is 3 as of this week. In two days, she has learned to ride a bike. Yet she has not mastered the "pee and poo in the potty" thing. Get that? She can RIDE a bike after two tries. She cannot consistently pee in the potty.

Just wanted to put that out there. 

After a wonderfully grueling Power Vinyasa class at OmTree {here's another shout people have to try this place out} and after my training session was over, I was famished. Really, really famished, and we had about 40 minutes to kill before getting the kids from school. 

So we headed to Dillons. 

Why? Three words: sushi, americano, treat.

The first two are for me, the last? For Libby.

We pay and sit down in their cafe...all good. About half way done. Libby stands in her chair. And her face begins to get really, REALLY red. 


"Libby, are you pooping?"
{So annoyed and quite frankly, embarrassed. There is nothing endearing about seeing a child poop, but at least when they are infants, you know they have no control. Once a child reaches a certain age, Im sure people begin to wonder about the parenting skills. They whisper to one another..."Why is she pooping HERE and not in the BATHROOM? Isn't she POTTY TRAINED YET??"}

Still red-faced, pushing. Hard. Wonderful. People are eating, for God sakes.

{I warned you it was all about poop, people.}

"Lee-me alone, mommy!"
"Let's go to the bathroom. NOW! Let's go!"

Pick up sushi, coffee, ice water, treat, clean table, and go...

After what seemed like 10 minutes later {she leisurely strolled to the other side of the store, where the bathroom was...} we were in the bathroom. 

Sushi, coffee, water, purse, treat down. Take a peek. Oh yeah, she's already gone.


Ok, time to get her on that stinkin' changing table...the one she practically falls OFF of. Im sure her 28 pounds exceeds the weight limit. Whatever.

This particular table jets out into the middle of the bathroom, so everyone entering and leaving the bathroom has a beautiful view of - you guessed it - Libby's poopy booty. And yeah, it was VERY poopy, very smelly and very, VERY gross. 

No way to hide it. Im embarrassed again. Really, Libby? Can you NOT poop in the potty? Really? You can't? UGH. Hide me under a table. 

So I grab wipes. A lot of them, people. This was a doozy. It's everywhere. And everyone gets to see it. No hiding it. No hiding the BALL O POOP that was sitting in her diaper. It was huge. I bet it was the size of a tennis ball. Or at least two golf balls. G.R.O.S.S.

I don't care how many butts you wipe. It never gets "Ungross."

So I go to wipe. And the BALL O POOP rolls down her back!!! MORTIFIED!!!

Why oh why is the bathroom so very popular right now? For heaven sake!!! I was doing anything in my power to hide this massive poop and I was NOT doing a very good job.

{Have I said DAMN yet?}

I grab it - the BALL O POOP - with the wipe and toss it. Imagine, if you will, poor Lu held in practically a perpendicular position as I {TRY} to ensure the poop doesn't get all over her. 

I was unsuccessful at that too. I must have used 15 wipes. Maybe 20. Really. I was surrounded by woman after woman, one of whom was chanting the whole time she was using the bathroom, "Let the river run, let the river run. Amen. Amen."

Seriously surreal, I can't make this stuff up, people. 

Ok ok - she gets a new diaper on - one that is relatively clean - I think. Until I go to pull up her leggings and see it - the long strip of yes, you guessed it, all down her back.


Deep sigh. Annoyed, cursing inside my head, convinced that my daughter is probably playing games with my head, just to see if I lose control. Go insane. At this point, I'm close. Real freaking close.

We're clean. I throw out the remaining sushi. My appetite is gone. We're out of the store. Libby's crying because we have used all of our time in the bathroom and she can't eat her treat at Starbucks. 

I get her in her seat. She is crying because I didn't let her put her seatbelt on. I drive off. She is crying because she wants to sit in the BACK, not the MIDDLE. 


I seek out my sunglasses in my purse. I look everywhere. They are nowhere to be found. I remember I left them in the bathroom. I don't care. I drive off. 

No sushi.
No sunglasses.
No more happy Libby. 

And all I have to say is that this better be the last POOP story of my life because this mom is DONE with them. DONE. DONE!

Gonna go have a drink now. Happy flipping Friday. 


ash & diz said...

omg... i'm dying laughing.
we don't have kids (yet) - but it's stories like this that let me know it's okay to not be perfect all the time and that's ok.

good luck on the potty training! ;)

Laurel said...

Hey, Tracey.

Do you ever read this blog:

Funny stuff. But not as funny as your stories. Seriously, so much poop. I hope the crazy poop events end soon, too, for your sanity. :) Happy day!

Tracey's bookshelf: read

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
The Girl Who Played with Fire
The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest
My Sister's Keeper
Nineteen Minutes
The Pact
The Tenth Circle
Change of Heart
Keeping Faith
Handle with Care
House Rules
More Than It Hurts You
Amy and Isabelle
A Prayer for Owen Meany
A Widow for One Year
The 158-Pound Marriage
To the Lighthouse
Between the Acts
A Room of One's Own, and Three Guineas
The Help

Tracey English's favorite books »