Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Poop File #2. (no pun intended)
Order reigns in the universe. Natural laws accompany most things. Murphy's Law is my particular favorite. In fact, I think from now on I will write down Murphy's Law in every baby advice book at every baby shower I go to from now on.
Whatever can go wrong, will.
This is not to depress new mothers, just prepare them. To go along with that, here is a famous quote that has been widely applied to only one demographic.
You can't take it with you.
This is a quote that is usually applied to greedy people who care more for money than mankind, or doing good things. That is a time tested application of that quote, but I have a better one. You can't take it with you should be used to comfort all mothers who are sad because their child has broken the last thing in the house. Now, when you sagely quote this to new mothers, these same mothers may say to you that if they can't take "it" with them, they can still throw "it" and then you will be in pain moments later.
But I digress from disclosing Poop File #2. Here is the natural law I have found with each file.
No matter how bad the experience is, a worse one will follow.
This philosophy has never failed me. I had terrible poop file #2 all ready, but I decided to go out of order and write the one that was worse, so that you may see the natural law of diaper poop in action.
The dollar store.
I was buying loads of dollar toys to motivate Cleve to go to the bathroom in the potty. He knows how, hes done it before, but inexplicably, Cleve decided one day to stop. So motivation was needed. A wonderful quality about children is that they think a dollar toy is just as fun as one that costs five times more, so like every other ruthless mother, I was taking full advantage of that naivete.
Suddenly, a familiar aroma filled the air. Interestingly, this aroma no longer bothers me. Its more like, a warning bell that goes off. Yes, sometimes the warning bell gets "loud" and extremely persistent, but it is just an indication that something needs to be changed. (get it? haha) A new mother of one rushes to the car the very second milk has processed through her baby's system, but a seasoned mother of three reasons that she's almost to the check out line so aromatic infant can wait a few minutes more. I got to the check out stand, and since there were many many people in the store that day (the dollar store was actually having a sale) I was assisted in unloading my cart by a very kindly woman who no habla englais. She was trying to tell me something, and this is what I heard,
"Blah blah blah blah BABY blah blah POOP blah blah blah...." I assumed she was referring to the now thick cloud of babyness that was surrounding us, so I smiled apologetically, said I was going to change him as soon as I got to the car, and continued on up to the check stand. The checker's eyes widened as she looked at me, and she asked wonderingly, "Is that mustard?" Confused, I looked down to see a gigantic dollop of what appeared to be thick and creamy mustard on my white (It had to be white) shirt. Even seasoned mothers can be incredibly dense, and the connection didn't spark for a few seconds. I dabbed the dollop, smelled it (Weirdly, the actual substance seemed to have no smell), and then I looked at my baby. Like the ending of a movie where you're shown the connecting points of a mystery, the horrifying reality unfolded before me. First, I saw this same yellow substance coating my son's legs and car seat. Then, I looked at the conveyor belt, and saw the same ghastly yellow "mustard" on the remaining toys left on the conveyor belt. Then, like a television crime scene, the worst sight was last. As though in slow motion, I slowly looked up to see the mustard all over the hands and shirts of the checker and bagger!!!!!!! Now, I know you all have figured out what this was, of course, but at the time I was in such a state of blank disconnection that it really did take me this long to have it dawn on me that this.........was................POOP! Lots, and lots of poop. Within seconds, I realized the chain of events.
I had piled many dollar toys, and my wallet in my baby son's car seat. (He likes to feel the items, and play with them). He then had a blowout all over the items and my wallet. I, of course, did not hear or see this S.B.D attack. (That's silent but deadly folks)
In taking my wallet out of the car seat, I had gobbed myself with poop, and the non english speaking employee had tried her darndest to warn me! To avoid future misery, I apparently need to learn spanish. ThisIn an effort to vacate this disgusting family from her store as soon as possible, this sweet woman had piled all my toys onto the conveyor belt, thereby coating the belt with poop. The checker and bagger had checked and bagged almost all of the toys by the time they themselves realized they were handling toxic waste. So by the time my brain had processed it, poop was everywhere. In fact, so coated was the conveyor belt that it had cycled around, and was now moving in one long continuous yellow streak! In ABJECT MORTIFICATION I took in the destruction my son (and me) had inflicted upon this poor defenseless dollar store! Holy holy holy holy cow! Red as a tomato, I choked out apology after apology to the maximumly grossed out employees (not to mention the dozens of nauseated shoppers around me), paid for my soiled goods, and fled that store as fast as a poop painted mommy could run!
Now I am really getting afraid. This file, "the worst poop experience EVER", was definitely worse than the last time, which I had also described as "the WORST poop experience EVER." Following the natural law going along with poop, it leaves me to wonder fearfully,
Holy freak, what poop evil awaits me next.


Erika said...

Funniest story EVER!!! I can't get over it. Maybe I need to have boys to have such crazy poop experiences... I think I'll pray for more girls. Hahaha! Thanks for the laugh.