We all have our funny parenting moments. The anecdotes that make the rounds at family gatherings; the ones we still giggle about years later. They may not seem humorous at the time, but these stories need to be shared. They help us feel like we are all in this together, right?
As I was sitting here on day 1,453,038 of quarantine with 4 kiddos under the age of 10, I took a trip down memory lane to the fun adventures we used to have when we regularly escaped the house.
Disclaimer #1: Someday my oldest will hate me for this post.
Disclaimer #2: I don’t care.
We have all been in this situation – you need a bathroom with none in sight.
If you say you haven’t, you are a filthy liar. Everyone knows that familiar gurgle; that rumble in your tummy. You need a toilet ASAP, and the closest one is 15,400 miles away. You think to yourself, “No….not right now…I do NOT need to go to the bathroom.”
Crap. Yes, I do.
You take a gamble and let a little fart squeeze out. But, to your dismay, that ain’t gas that just came out of your booty.
This tale originates in the time before social-distancing and stay at home orders. It was FINALLY sunny and warm after several gloomy, rainy days. Nothing in this world is more fun than being cooped up by yourself for multiple, consecutive days with 4 kids, said no parent EVER (again, pre-quarantine). So, we were ready to scamper off to the neighborhood park for some much needed Vitamin D.
Navigating the two middle kids on the play equipment while holding an infant took all of my energy and arm strength. It left about .01% attention on my oldest. So when he yelled out that he was peeing behind a tree, I didn’t think anything of it. Until he didn’t come out right away.
He called out a second time, and I could hear the panic in his voice.”Mom. Help me. It’s poop.”
Oh, crap. Literally.
Our neighborhood park did NOT have a bathroom. “No, it’s not poop. Hold it in, and we’re going to run home,” I yelled from the slide as grabbed the girls and ran toward him.
“Ok, mom….” he said, grabbing my hand. Suddenly, my hand was unexpectedly warm, and it was not just because his hand was clammy from the impending GI doom.
“When I said, ‘Hold it in’, I did not LITERALLY MEAN WITH YOUR HAND!!” I cried.
It was supposed to be just a short walk, so there was no diaper bag. There were no random wipes hiding under the stroller. Not even a Starbucks napkin blowing by in the wind. Am I new?!?! Any parent knows better than that.
As he waddled home, my second-oldest laughed because for once, the poop-tastrophie wasn’t her fault. I found some bleach and a beer. We got cleaned up and tried that trip again. At least the silver lining of quarantine is that when a poop-tastrophie strikes, the wipes are nearby.