Poo

Before there was blogging, a mom who had just experienced a traumatic event would have to seek out professional help to deal with the crisis. But, thankfully, I have a blog so that I can just post an extremely long entry about a very, traumatic event that just happened as therapy.

But a little background first. All three of my kids have always worn Pampers diapers. When they were infants I had tried other brands but they would break out in a rash. So I just stuck with Pampers even though I'm pretty sure I could've bought a small island in the Mediterranean for what I've spent on my precious Pampers.

So at the beginning of June, while I was standing in the diaper aisle at BJs, I was struck by how much cheaper the generic brand of diapers was versus my super expensive Pampers. Hey, I could save more than $11 buying the generic and I thought Junior was old enough to not have any adverse reaction. I was so proud of myself because I'm always the person who pays full price. While all my other friends get free stuff ALL THE TIME, I'm the one out there who always has to pay full price. I never seem to get the deal.

Well, after about a week in these diapers I knew why they were so cheap: they didn't stay on the kid. Junior was constantly handing his diaper to me after it had fallen off while he was playing. Plus, he got a wicked case of diaper rash as soon as they hit his bottom. So, being the benevolent person I am, I left the remainder of the diapers in Indiana while we were there. I knew Six in the Mix was going to be there a few weeks later and maybe she'd have better luck with the diapers.

Fast forward to this week...

Yesterday, I had all my upstairs carpets professionally cleaned. They were so disgusting and desperately needed to be deep cleaned. The guy did a great job and the bedrooms look so much better. However, the carpets were really wet so we had the kids sleep downstairs last night so they wouldn't traipse all over the damp carpet. When I got Junior ready this morning, we were still downstairs and I reached over for the diaper bag (which is rarely used anymore) and pulled out one of the very cheap generic diapers. I guess I still had one left.

Well, I just let the kids go upstairs about an hour ago while I was putting away laundry.
Junior was over in the corner and before long I could smell that familiar poopy stench. Eventually he disappeared and I figured he was in his room playing.

A few minutes later he came back and was tugging on my arm to look at his feet that were COVERED IN POOP. HE WAS COVERED IN POOP. And as I scooped him up and ran for the bathroom I noticed a clean, unscathed GENERIC diaper sitting in the hallway. Well my bloody murder scream roused Sparkle and her friend from downstairs and they hurried up to find me barking orders for wipes (bring the whole box) and to turn the shower on.

Sure enough, he had POOPED WITH NO DIAPER ON. AND HE DID IT ON MY PROFESSIONALLY CLEANED CARPETS. Or did he? I actually hadn't seen any in my room or on my way to the bathroom. Could it be that God was going to spare me from my wicked ways and not punish me for buying generic? Could we just consider this a wake-up call that I'm am to never, ever, ever try to save a dime?

So I told the girls who, by the way, had eyes as big of saucers and were making lots of gagging noises. The friend is an only child and I'm pretty sure she has never seen such a spectacle. What a fun dinner story she's going to have tonight. But I digress...

So I send the girls out to look for signs of poop anywhere else. They quickly reported back that they found some in Sparkle's bedroom. "How much," I ask. "Not much," they respond.

Hmmmmm. SINCE WHEN DOES A TRAIL OF POOP THE LENGTH OF THE ROOM COUNT AS "NOT MUCH?"

AGHAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

The cherry on top was the little glob of poo that was at the end of Junior's yellow brick road.

And so I sit here wanting to cry, wanting to laugh, and wanting to kick myself for ever thinking I could pull off generic diapers.

Excuse me, I need to go change my shirt. There's poop on it. Oh, and I need to wash my feet because Junior peed on them while I was trying to clean him up.

And, listen, there's the phone. I bet it's Jim calling to see how my day is going.

Poo

http://momnaction.blogspot.com/2007/07/poop.html