I felt like a fish circling around a tank, as I rhythmically patted and bounced my baby along the perimeter of my house to fall asleep for a nap. Eventually, the baby fell asleep with a side lying feeding. I scrolled through Facebook events near me on my phone. The only thing that popped up mid-week was a National Day of Prayer gathering at City Hall. It’s not the most enticing thing to do, but I was desperate to get out of the house. I laid on my bed with my baby pressed up against me with her tiny hand on my boob. I sighed and gathered up the courage to escape from the nap trap with the “ninja roll”.
Mastering the ninja roll takes the stealthiness of a snake, the balance of a cat, and speed of a sloth. My baby is just so…touchy. Her startle reflex is bad, and even the faintest bodily sound or movement sends her arms up in the air. I had t-minus 5 minutes before she’d realize I’m not by her side. I needed a fresh pair of leggings and who knows how much rancid breast milk has leaked through my shirt? After getting dressed, I had to empty my bladder and the sound of the toilet flush woke up sleeping beauty.
It is so difficult, but necessary, to get out of the house. There is so much to pack and it’s so mentally straining to try to get the timing right. Driving produces anxiety because my baby cries in the car seat. Every trip I sing twinkle twinkle little star over and over. I throw a new toy back there every 3 minutes. I even lean back my driver’s seat, so I can hold her hand while I drive. She has a mirror. Yes, I’ve tried everything–even a chiropractor visit and a new car seat.
I frantically drove on the freeway and into town hoping that my baby wouldn’t cry. I went downtown to look for city hall. I thought it was downtown. But….I drove around and saw nothing. So I pulled over, got my phone out, and searched on google maps. I discovered that it’s at the police station. I drove over there and found a good parking spot with lots of shade.
I was under the impression that this prayer event was at a flagpole and outside. I quickly clicked the infant car seat into the new stroller I’d just gotten. I pushed the stroller over to the building. There are stairs. I have a stroller. (Normally, I baby wear so stairs aren’t an issue.) I circled around to find a handicap path to the building. I noticed that there is no gathering of anybody outside for this National Day of Prayer event. Puzzled, I followed some people into the city hall/police department.
I saw a board room with close to 100 people in it. There was a panel of serious faced pastors from all the churches in town sitting at a desk with microphones. There were news cameras. There was even a church bulletin passed around. What did I choose to go to? I’m a mother of a newborn and I cannot handle sitting down through an hour long service. I scanned the room full of people over 65 years old. I am a fish out of water. I felt like Nemo flopping around on the window sill after he escaped from the tank.
I sat next to a retired veteran and a lady who said “Amen” after every sentence the pastor spoke. My baby started to make some sounds, so I took her out of the stroller. I got a whiff of the apple cider vinegar poop smell. I looked down and saw liquid yellow orange goo squirting out of the back of the diaper and out the inner thighs. Oh my gosh, it’s a blow out, and I’m stuck in a church service.
Orange disgusting lava saturated her entire onesie. Oh lordy, help me–it was on my shirt. I quickly wrapped the blanket around her and put her back in the car seat, which had a puddle of shit soaking through the cushion. I hoped the people next to me couldn’t smell it.
I put on a straight face and quietly zipped up my diaper bag. The retired vet next to me nudged, “Hope we didn’t scare you off.” I half frowned, and said, “The baby isn’t gonna sit through this.” Awkwardly, I tried to navigate my stroller over the power cords, around the press on the sides of the room, and through the double doors at the end of the room. The mayor of the city said, “Sorry to see you leave so early.” Operation sneak out of “church” never seems to work. Little did I know that my situation was going to get worse.
I walked to the car, and started my engine, so the air conditioner cooled the car down. I have to change the diaper in the backseat of my Toyota, which of course is a bit crammed. I took out the changing pad that comes with my Ju-Ju-Be diaper bag. I took the baby out of the car seat. Poor thing, she’s covered in poop. The entire time I’m trying to change her, I’m thinking, “Ew EW ew ew Ugh Uh EW.” I pulled her onsie down so the poop didn’t cover her face. I placed the soaking wet onesie into a ziploc bag because I forgot my normal wet bag. I realized that…I…only…had…four… baby wipes left.
I started to freak out a little bit. I had to take some breaths to calm down. Poop was all over her body and I hadn’t even took her diaper off. Poop was all over the changing pad. Poop got on my car’s back seat. Poop was on her carseat. How can I clean up this mess with four baby wipes?
Welp, I did my best. I basically threw everything that touched poop into a plastic bag. The clean up process took a full 20 minutes and the baby was hungry. I attempted to breastfeed my baby in the front seat. She popped off and milk sprayed and leaked everywhere. I sat in my front seat feeling tired, worn, disgustingly dirty, and had a wet shirt from milk. I placed my baby back into a stained car seat, and drove home.
Of course, she cried on the way home and I had to stop on the side of the road to try to give her some more milk. It was a long day. We both got in the bathtub when we got home.
Before having children I worked in a church nursery, was the eldest of 3 children, aunt of a nephew, and got a degree in Child Development and somehow AVOIDED ever having to do a diaper. Karma came back and bit me in the ass. After changing the explosive Mount Doom diaper, I learned my lesson and switched to cloth.
(Diaper from N3rdfluff apparel)
The End.
What’s your worst poop explosion story?
