Oh No He Didn’t….Oh Yes He Did!

Drippy. That word, when said, brings to mind bad things. A drippy nose, a drippy faucet, or worst of all a drippy ice cream cone (what a waste of precious goodness when this happens). These were the normal things that came to mind for me, until now. I have a new mental image when someone says drippy: a drippy diaper.

Oh yes folks, it happened…to me…out of town…in public…by myself…no backup.

I got knocked off my high horse yesterday. I sit and listen to moms talk about how they have had diaper explosions or projectile vomits or even massive spit ups. And I just sit there and listen, thinking in my head I’m so glad my baby doesn’t do that. Wow, he’s so good, I’m sure he will continue to be wonderful and never embarrass me in public with such massive displays of bodily fluids. Oh poor other moms, but for me and my baby it hasn’t happened. Extra clothes in every diaper bag at all times? Nah. Extra clothes for mom? Even more ridiculous, not for me. Huge supply of wipes and diapers? No, not needed, but thanks for the advice.

Boom! That was me falling off my horse, onto my butt, and humbly crawling back to the stables with all the other moms who have fallen before me.

Yesterday, Corbin and I were at an eating establishment having lunch, just the two of us. We’ve never done this before, but it was going so well. Corbin was cooing, giggling, and playing so nicely while I ate my delicious meal. In fact we had a man at the table next to us comment on how great my baby was. Yes, I was feeling so content and happy…this mommy thing I’ve got it down.

Then I went to pick Corbin up out of his car seat because he needed to eat. I’m being the good mom and talking to him as I get him out, he’s smiling, I’m smiling…ahh let’s get a picture of the bliss. Now, lift your nostrils to the air and get a wiff of a massive, smelly, runny poop that comes pouring out of my baby’s bottom when I lift him up. This picture of bliss quickly turns to a picture of terror! Sheer and utter panic runs through my body. I’m standing with poop dripping down my shirt, my pants, arms, and onto the floor. (Again remember we are in a restaurant…people are trying to eat…gross!)

I only had one option. I was all alone so I had to leave all my belongings except the diaper bag, which I literally threw in my mouth (everything else was covered in poop) and dashed to the bathroom leaving small dots of yellow nastiness in my wake. I wanted to melt into the floor next to the dots of nastiness and be wiped away. I wanted to leave my baby on the floor and go, “who’s baby is that covered in poop? Seriously, someone needs to take care of that child.” I wanted to escape, to avoid having to clean this up.

When I made it to the bathroom - which was only a one person bathroom - there was no changing table so I put Corbin on the tile floor. What else was I to do? I know, gross, bathroom floor, and my baby’s laying on it. Then, as I’m reflecting back on it (to my embarrassment), my baby is lying on the cold tile floor covered in poop, and I go to the sink and begin to try and clean myself up. Yes, I said myself. Nope, I didn’t go to my baby first. I let him sit in crap while I cleaned myself up. I’m SO embarrassed. That does not win any mom awards I’m sure.

After I tried - with little success - to clean myself up I began to tackle the challenge of cleaning up Corbin. But quite honestly, for about one minute I just sat there not sure where to begin. I was running low on wipes, I had no clothes, I had only one burp rag, and not a bag in sight to put the dirty clothes.

I used each little wipe as economically as I could and just began to wipe and clean up the best I could. I took his clothes and folded them up so the poop was on the inside and laid them in the bottom of my bag. (Oh they reeked, oh my poor bag reeked…I get a little nauseous just thinking about it.) Once he was sufficiently clean, I put a clean diaper on Corbin and…nothing else. I had no clothes with me.

Taking a deep, deep, breath I walked out of the bathroom with pooped stained clothes and an almost-naked baby. I walked with purpose, keeping my eyes trained on our table. I didn’t want to look around and see if anyone else was viewing the complete and utter humiliation that was occurring for me. I then proceeded, while holding my almost naked baby to take flimsy little napkins and clean the inside of his car seat and the floor. My face was flaming red, I was in a full-on sweat, and I just wanted to die.

But I got the cleanup job done, buckled Corbin in to his car seat and hightailed it out with the little dignity I had left in tact.

Oh yes, “drippy” now brings a whole new picture to my mind.

As an add on to the story. I was out of town and really needed to go to Target to get formula. So, yup, I went. At this point at least Corbin had clean clothes (from the bag that was in the car holding all the precious supplies I needed), but I myself was still stained with poop. What a mom will do for her baby!

Sorry Momma, but…

when ya gotta go ya gotta go.

Love me!