Every day I play a game I like to call “How Did Poop Get There?”. It’s an exciting game in which the designated diaper changer of the hour tries to figure out how Elliott’s poop arrived at yet another unusual destination based on evidence provided by Elliott’s clothes, diaper and body position. Unfortunately, there has yet to be a winner unless you count Elliott, who always appears to be quite proud of himself for outsmarting his parents once again via his bowels.
I’ve discovered Elliott’s poop on his shoulder, his heel, his bellybutton (?!?!), and the middle of his back. It’s not like we don’t clean him up after we change him. He’s always left looking fabulously clean. But somehow in the 2 to 60 minutes between changes, he finds a new way to keep us flabbergasted and hard at work in the cleaning department. We’ve hardly had a problem with the dreaded blowouts, thank goodness, so I don’t know how he pulls these pranks exactly. However, in case we were to ever be naive as to what a blowout was like, he did – quite publicly – provide us with a massive blowout to never be forgotten.
Will and I took the Tiny E (SNL reference) to our favorite coffee shop, Cafe Evoke, one Friday afternoon to meet up with a good friend of ours. We spent the majority of the time talking about pregnancy and babies since, at the time, she was 34 weeks pregnant, now 36, and a baby is weeks away from becoming her reality. Elliott slept like a sweet, adorable angel while we sipped our coffee and raved on about the joys of having him in our lives, admittedly leaving out the less joyful parts about no sleep and his extreme disdain for bath time. Over the course of that coffee, we made parenthood look like a breeze. Our soon-to-be-mother friend had nothing to worry about – babies are easy! But towards the end of our get-together, Elliott got hungry, and that’s when things began to rapidly go downhill. Our easy breezy parenthood cover was blown.
As I had yet to have nursed Elliott in public, I decided this was the time and place to do it. The 4 of us moved to a different spot in the cafe so I could feed Elliott more comfortably, and after getting the OK from me, Will took off to the store while I got myself and Elliott situated. This was a big deal. As soon as I got us covered and ready, Elliott let out the biggest, loudest toot I’d ever heard come out of him. I immediately felt the end result of said toot, which managed to somehow shoot up his back, leak from him to my nursing cover to my hand. Totally shocked, I asked my equally shocked friend if poop was still leaking out from the nursing cover. She said, “Uhhh yes” and off Elliott and I awkwardly and quickly went to the bathroom where I’m certain my hair starting falling out from stress. By the time we made it to the bathroom, Elliott was crying hard, I’m assuming because he had soiled his brand new handsome outfit. That’s why I was upset, anyway.
Elliott continued to wail as I stripped him down with one hand and frantically searched for a new diaper, wipes and a clean outfit with the other while also singing and talking and shushing to calm him down. Finally, he was ready for his cleaning. I turned my head briefly to note the location of the trash can, and when I turned back to face Elliott, I was met with an out of control fountain of urine which went everywhere and hit everything. It wet Elliott’s face and favorite pacifier, dove inside my diaper bag, soaked the new diaper and clean outfit I had ready to go, then made its way towards the bathroom floor which I shielded by throwing myself in the way of the stream. And I was wearing a great new outfit that day, too.
While we both cried out our stress, I did my best to clean Elliott from head to toe, because poop was actually on his head, as well as the side of his face. Seriously, his poop bewilders me. I don’t know how it travels the way it does. Luckily I had a backup clean outfit to replace the urine-soaked backup outfit, but it too had been touched by the fountain, so Elliott had to remain just a little damp until we got home. After what seemed like 2 hours, we emerged exhausted, dirty and teary-eyed from the cafe’s bathroom. There was a line of worried wide-eyed ladies waiting, all of whom appeared to not currently have kids based on the frightened way they looked at me. If that’s true, they probably won’t have kids for a while.
I did not achieve a milestone in motherhood by nursing in public that day but instead took to the backseat of my friend’s car in the parking lot. She promises her witnessing of the diaper disaster didn’t scar her or make her nervous about her own baby on the way which is a relief because had it been the other way around, I’d probably be in a state of pure panic.
But you know, Elliott and I survived it. The event was a hectic one to be sure and one that wiped us out for the remainder of the day, but we made it through our first of what will be probably many more very crazy, very public diaper incidents – and I consider the survival of that event to be a milestone achieved in motherhood.