Today's story involves poop. Which I think is pretty fitting considering most good kid stories involve some sort of bodily function. But if poop isn't your thing (b/c it's totally MY thing...), you may want to skip this one!
A Crappy Deal
I'm in the backseat of a Honda Odyssey minivan, alternating my attention between scanning the interior of the car, listening for concerning squeaks and bangs, making silly faces at Grayson to keep him calm, and vaguely hearing the salesman in the passenger seat schmoozing Scott. We are test-driving this minivan in Savannah, Georgia, about 45 minutes away from home. Grayson at only 5 months old is still at the age where he could demand milk at any moment. I hope he stays content, despite being strapped into his carseat for so long, and does not require me to whip my boob out in front of this stranger who desperately wants to sell us a car. We continue along nearby streets while he unsuccessfully tries to convince Scott that our budget is flexible. At one point I even hear him ask if Scott is an accountant. Ha! The search for cars and the talk of budgets bores me and leaves me all glazy-eyed and craving a nap. After making a mental note of my likes and dislikes of the car's interior, I shift my full attention to Grayson. I talk to him, play with his hands and rub his tummy. I'm eager to return to the dealership so I can scoop him out of his carseat. I never like for him to spend too much time strapped into something.
The test-drive finally ends just as Grayson is starting to get cranky. We pull into the parking lot, on the opposite end of where we parked. We aren't going to buy this van. I know it. Scott's knows it. Grayson probably even knows it, but this salesman is relentless. I pick Grayson up, hold him against my chest, facing outward, and bounce him lightly. Scott and I are having this awkward moment where we both want the other to say the official "no" on the car. Then, during this never-ending game of passive-aggressive decline, I catch a whiff of something tart and vinegary. I am very familiar with this strangely sweet yet acrid fragrance. I turn my eyes down to take a peek in Grayson's diaper, to confirm what I already know to be true. Too late! No need to peek. It's one of his infamous blowouts and poop is seeping out of all sides of the diaper, including up his back and across my stomach where I had been bouncing him!
At that moment I no longer care how badly this man wants to sell a car or what intriguing offer he may suggest, I'm on a full-fledged mommy mission! I quickly tell Scott I need to get to the car to take care of this issue. I abandon him there, to deal with this incessant salesman, while I awkwardly carry my poop-covered baby in one arm and struggle to push the stroller forward with my other. After finagling the stroller over several curbs and forging my way across the large lot, I make it to the car! Sanctuary!
Hastily, I pull out the diaper bag, lay the changing pad on the backseat of the car, and gently place my foul smelling babe on top. Never mind that poop is getting everywhere; I'll have to deal with that later! One thing at a time! Now, where to start? Wipes, of course! I pop open the handy wipe dispenser on the exterior of our diaper bag--one of my favorite features. I reach in and pull out...one wipe. The last wipe! And, much to my dismay, it is completely dried out! NO! Now what? Grayson is crying, annoyed with this whole ordeal. We're both covered in poop. I'm trying to hold him still so he doesn't roll his poop-body over the edge of the car seat and into the floor board. I hold him with one hand and dig through my purse for my phone with the other. I type out the quickest text message I could: "Need u now!"
Moments later, Scott appears, visibly annoyed and clutching a business card. "That guy would not let me leave! I kept telling him I had to go and he kept trying to sell me that car! I told him I had to talk it over with you first. He tried to tell me that you were on board and I had to make the decision. What a jerk! Finally I said, 'I have got to go take care of my family. I'll call you if we're interested.' Jeez!"
Yeah, yeah, it's a crappy car and he's a crappy guy, but I've got some real crap to deal with here!
"Babe! Poop! We're covered in poop! And we need wipes! Can you get me some paper towels from the bathroom or something? What are we gonna do?" I spurt at him.
Ever the problem-solver, Scott derives a solution in seconds! "What about that lady we met in the waiting room with the baby? I bet she can give us some wipes!" Scott suggests.
"Yeah, if she's even still here..."
"She is! I can see her over there! Be right back!"
Scott returns with a handful of wipes. Hallelujah! Thank the good Lord for fellow parents! We work together as efficiently as possible, wiping poop from every smeared surface and chunking used wipes in a disposable bag. I strip Grayson of his adorable outfit, given to him by his Auntie Erin, and tie it up tightly in a separate disposable bag. Thankfully we always have a spare outfit in his diaper bag, which I dress him in after he's been thoroughly scrubbed. Of course, he cries through all of this, we're pouring sweat and losing our patience, but we handle it like a pro-team.
What about me? I remember in horror that I recently removed my spare shirt from the diaper bag and never replaced it. I look down at my poop smeared top and conclude there is no salvaging it, other than a run through the wash.
Scott comes to the rescue again and removes his own t-shirt and offers it to me. Fortunately he's wearing an undershirt so he has one to spare. I make the walk of shame through the dealership to the bathrooms so I can change shirts and scrub my hands for a good minute or so, meticulously cleaning under each fingernail and rubbing vigorously. Leaving the bathroom, I fidget and search over all my exposed skin and all my clothing for any last remnants of poop that might give me away to passerby as the poor, frazzled parent that I am. Poop and all.
We strap Grayson back into his carseat and bundle up all the bags of used wipes and the dirty diaper. I toss it into a nearby trash can, and we drive away as quickly as possible! We're so stressed, and Grayson is crying again. There is no way we can drive 45 minutes right now! We need somewhere to decompress and let Grayson settle down with some milk. Thankfully, we have some friends who live in Pooler and we decide to pay them a little visit.
Only after finally returning home do we realize that in our haste, we also threw away the bag with the adorable, poop-covered outfit! It's a frustrating cherry on top of the poop-covered sundae, but all things considered, it was a minor casualty to the whole ordeal.
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| picture taken at our friends' house...this is the spare outfit! Much less cute and now in our attic, rather than in some landfill covered in poo. |
It was not our first blowout, nor was it our last, but it has certainly been one of the more memorable ones to date!
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What about you? Any good bodily function stories to share? I'm sure you're just EXPLODING with them! (Pun intended!)
Haha! You guys are a great team. Love this!
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