A Really Crappy Day: Part I of the Epic Series

A Really Crappy Day: Part I of the Epic Series

Mommy, I have to go pee pee!"

We had only been at the park 15 minutes and she had peed before leaving the house. Twice.

As there are few things more disgusting than the bathrooms at a city park, I tried to talk her out of it. "Are you sure you have to pee? I don't think you have to." She consulted her bladder and was not convinced. "Mommy, I have to go pee pee! Mommy, I have to go pee pee! Mommy, I..." Okay, okay, it looked like we were going to have to face the cinder block hut after all. On the way over I tried to formulate a plan for Ella to relieve herself while getting the least amount of fellow park goers' fecal matter on her as possible. I was holding Addison, so I wouldn't be able to help her levitate just above the toilet while she peed. Besides, that plan of action usually ends poorly as I'm not that strong, and it requires me to squat so I'm level with the toilet and hold a 26 lb squirmy kid straight out in front of me. We ran about a 50-50 chance of both landing on the floor, likely in a puddle of someone else's urine. As it turned out, I wouldn't have to play those odds after all.

We made it to the bathrooms only to discover they were still all locked up for the winter. I needed to come up with a new plan before she wet herself, so I weighed my options and decided I'd set our potty training back months by suggesting she put on pull-ups and pee in them. Now Ella is a pro at peeing in her pull ups when there is a perfectly good, sanitary potty right in front of her, but at the moment the idea seemed beneath her.

"No, Mommy, I not want to. I want to pee in potty." I showed her the locks and, when she still refused to believe her dream of mixing her urine with that of the rest of the Durham populace wasn't going to come to fruition, let her pull on the doors so she could see for herself they weren't going to open. So, how about those pull ups? "No, I not want to go in pull ups. I not have to go potty any more." I knew she didn't have the capability of willing her urine away, but that would solve the problem of having to try to break into the latrine with an infant under one arm and a kid who has to go in tow, so I chose to believed her. A woman passing by heard our conversation, gave me a pitiful look, and offered to let Ella use the potty she had in the back of her car. Great. A pity potty. Addison was getting hungry, though, and I needed to feed her, so I thanked the lady for the offer and told her we might need to take her up on it in a little bit.

With visions of my 2 yr old peeing in the back of someone's van, I sat down to give Addison her bottle. Thirty seconds into it, she started fussing. When she kicked out her left leg in a fit of gas, Addison's foot went right through her sleeper. I put her over my shoulder to burp her and she spit up all over me. I couldn't reach the spit up, as it was all down my back, so I was going to have to wear it home. It was shaping up to be a great day at the park.

"Mommy, I have to go pee pee," I heard again as I was trying to give Addison the rest of her bottle. "No you don't," I countered. But Ella's bladder won in the end. Again, she refused the pull ups. The mom with the pity potty was gone, so I was left with one option: do like the boys and doggies do and pee in the grass. I proposed this idea to Ella and she, of course, jumped on it. I realized I would have to hold Ella steady while she squatted to pee, but I didn't know how I could pull that off while holding a baby. I could lay Addison down in the grass beside us, but who knows how many boys and dogs had gone before us. There was a group of moms having a play date at the park, so I zeroed in on one and asked her if she would hold my baby (who was now fussy because she hadn't gotten to finish her bottle) while I took my daughter to pee in the grass. So with a stranger holding my crying, hungry baby with a hole in her clothes, I headed for the grass with my other daughter while the more put together moms stood there and judged me.

Women, especially small ones, don't really have control over the direction of their pee like their male counterparts do, so it was understandable when Ella's stream went astray and saturated the hem of my jeans. Other than that, though, the peeing went off without a hitch. I retrieved my baby and parked myself on a bench to finish feeding her.

An ounce into her bottle, Addison had a blow out. My baby doesn't just poop, she POOPS. This particular bowel movement made it through her diaper, onesie, and clothes, halting only when it hit my pants. Covered in pee, spit up and poop, I was finally ready to admit defeat. I gathered up my children and our things and headed for the car.

"Mommy, I have to poop," Ella declared half way across the parking lot. This was beyond ridiculous. I pretended not to hear her. "I have to poop," Ella said louder as I loaded her into her car seat, and still I pretended not to hear her. By now Addison was screaming because I had strapped her into her car seat hungry and covered in her own poop.

As I'm writing this post a small child is tugging on my arm telling me she has to go potty. And so, I declare this story:
To be continued...

The Crappy Day Continues: Part II of the Epic Series
Seriously, Could This Day Get Any Crappier? Part III of the Epic Series

Be sure not to miss part II of this crappy day (oh yes, it gets worse)! If you would like to be notified by email when new stories are posted, enter your email address in the subscription box to the right.