Parade of Poop

Call me blissfully ignorant or mistakenly mislead, but I actually believed that after the newborn stage, blow-outs were a thing of the past.

Apparently, Park did not get the memo.

I hold myself partially responsible for today's mishap because there may have been a time or two that I watched other moms deal with messy toddler poops while secretly relishing the fact that Park had "outgrown" such nonsense. You'd have thought I'd done this mom thing long enough to know that kids were born to prove their parents wrong!

And so it went.....

I accepted the invitation of a sweet friend, Bonnie, to venture out for some shopping, dinner and play time for the kiddos at a mall about 45 minutes north of where we live. Each having a 2 yr old boy, we loaded our bags with snacks to feed a small army and bribed encouraged our kids to stay in their strollers by promising some germ-infested, barefoot play at the end of the trip.

True to our word, little Cooper and Park lived it up on the trains, slides, and tunnels. Bonnie and I sat in peace as they played until their hearts were content. My guard went up went I saw Park sneak off behind a wall while making the familiar "poopie face". My suspicions were confirmed when the aroma reached me long before I got within arm's reach of him.

I quickly swiped him up, placed him in my lap to put shoes on his dirty little feet, and headed off for the restroom hand in hand. About three steps out of the play area, I looked down and realized that my shirt was painted with pooh. Two more steps and I saw that my shorts were also covered and it was now dripping down my leg.

There is only so much this mommy can take, so like any mature woman I screamed for Bonnie to "HELP ME!". Since the lay-out of the mall was obviously designed by someone of the male species, the bathroom was located a floor up and about 100 miles over from the children's play area.

And I'm sure that made perfect sense to someone who has never marched in a Parade of Poop across said space.

Contemplating leaving the mall in just my bare essentials, I decided there was no other logical choice than to soak my clothes in the bathroom sink, while virtually bathing Park in another. While soaping his bare bum in the public restroom, I felt certain I was providing a strong case for abstinence for the one girl who had the misfortune of entering at that proud moment.

I'll spare you the details of the rest of the clean up mission. It will suffice to say that Bonnie is a much better friend than I am because she was right alongside me every messy step of the way. (Whereas I would have just wished her well and said, "See you at the car when you no longer smell like raw sewage.")

Chin lifted high, she walked side by side with me as I pushed my diaper clad stink bomb the 100 miles back to the car in my soaking wet clothes. Park did his part to clear up any confusion as to why his mommy had him at the mall dressed in his birthday suit by yelling to anyone who would listen, "Me N*ked! Me Stinky! Me Mommy stinky, too!", while laughing hysterically.

And truth be told, Bonnie and I also laughed until we almost wet our pants (or at least her pants since mine were ALREADY wet) at the absurdity of it all.

Or..... what if she was laughing and secretly relishing that Cooper has outgrown such nonsense?

Bonnie, consider yourself warned: Kids are born to prove their parents wrong:)