I don't know how many of you have been reading this blog for more than 2 years, but about 2.5 years ago I had this experience: http://survivingacademia.blogspot.com/2011/05/you-just-gotta-laugh.html
Last weekend, I had the toddler version...
I went to a professional meeting at a cool big city and took M with me 'cause it's one of those meetings where I'm somewhat peripheral so I don't really have to participate all that much, a number of my work-friends go, and it's got lots of kid-friendly kind of content to it (hard to explain, sorry). Anyway, I was there with M and Dh.
One of my past grad students is living there with his new fiancee. A past postdoc was also there, and they had overlapped in the lab, so it made for a good opportunity to reminisce and catch up.
My student picked out a pretty hip and fancy restaurant for us to go to, which in typical hip fashion was pretty loud. This wasn't that big of a deal, but we did have to sit there at the bar for 40 minutes before getting a table. M was pretty good, she drank a huge cup of orange juice (her "cocktail") and was pretty happy sitting on my lap most of the time.
She is essentially potty trained these days, but isn't comfortable pooping in the potty, so she asks to put on a pull-up when she needs to poop. This always happens in the early evening, around dinner time. I was prepared, and when she asked, I put her in a pull-up. All was good.
Then we went and sat down at the table, and after a few minutes she turns to me and has that concerned look all parents learn to recognize. Mama, my poo poo skeezed out.
As I turn to talk with her, I accidentally knock over my glass of water all over my student's fiancee. I even broke the glass.
But back to the poop. This happens, not that big of a deal, so I scoop her up, grab the wipes and head off to the bathroom, pretending not to notice that there is a smear of stuff on the booth where she was sitting (it was dark, I could do this reasonably).
We get to the bathroom and oh la la... poop was everywhere. Everywhere, I tell you. I haven't seen a poo-poo explosion like this in a looooong time. All the way up her back to her shoulder blades. All over one of her arms (mama, there is stinky poo poo on my arm), pants, undies that were on over her pull-up, shoes, oh, and me too 'cause remember I carried her to the bathroom in the dark of the hip and cool restaurnat.
I had to work out a plan. This was one of the more challenging poop incidents I have ever faced, but I embraced the challenge with open arms and a positive attitude. Mama-hood has definitely honed my practical problem-solving skills. I kinda relish in the challenge, to be honest. Ok, so we are good. I got it.
I take her clothes off, use toilet paper to get the major poop off, as that's flushable. Then I use my limited number of wipes (as I was dangerously close to the bottom of the wipes container before we even started on this situation) to get her as clean as I could. She was amazing, just worked with me and didn't freak out. Then we left the stall where we'd been and went to the sink.
I'd like to remind you that I made the cardinal mistake of not taking the entire diaper bag with me, so I did not have any extra clothes with me. This is a super fancy restaurant, so I had to give some serious thought as to how to solve this problem. Clothes all covered in poop. Naked child. A long walk between close-together tables at a very fancy restaurant between me and the diaper bag. Do you leave your kid in the bathroom and dash over to the table? No. That's not an option. Do you try to explain to someone in the bathroom which table is yours, and see if they could get your Dh to bring you the diaper bag? Not a realistic solution. That leaves only...
I rinsed her clothes out in the sink, and luckily all the other women (or at least most of them) were really totally nice about it, laughing and saying they'd been there too. I then explain to M that it was going to be cold, but that I had to put her wet dress back on her so that we could go back to the table to get the diaper bag with her extra clothes in it. She is totally cool with this. Amazing.
The nice bathroom attendant gave me a plastic bag to put the other clothes in. That woman rocks.
I carry wet child back to the table after we'd been gone for like 20 minutes, grab the diaper bag, tell Dh that he needs to discretely wipe down the booth seat beside him, and return to the bathroom. I get M all dressed in a new outfit.
All is good. I am super mom. I solved the most amazing poo poo explosion with style. With class. With finesse. I came away from it with a happy child. Me is soooooooo cool.
Can you guess where this is going?
We get back to the table, I'm enjoying my wonderful glass of wine, recovering from the bad feeling of drenching my student's fiancee with water as I dealt with my poopoo explosion toddler.
Then said toddler starts kind of freaking out a little, needing lots of attention, wanting me to feed her, etc. That's ok, not too bad. A bit out of the norm for her, as she is usually remarkably good at restaurants. But this restaurant is loud, and I can tell that it is hyping her up. We are dealing though, and since she's between me and Dh, we have it fairly contained.
M is then sitting in my lap, as she typically does, when I suddenly feel this really warm wet sensation all across my lap and down one leg.
M looks at me with that look of "uh oh mama, I just peed my pants." Oh yes. Yes you did...
So I sit there for a while and continue with the conversation, as I need time to think of what to do. Remember, I just used the only change of clothes I had in the diaper bag. Do other people carry around multiple changes of clothes?! This is the first time since M was super itty bitty that she needed more than one change of clothes in a 2 hour time-span.
I lean over to Dh and tell him that M just peed on me. He tells me that I shouldn't mention this to my student or his fiancee, as they had just been talking about how they want to try to have a baby in a year. He offers to take M to the bathroom to take her pants off and use the only pull-up we have left. I strongly advise that he have her walk by herself rather than carrying her. She's drenched.
She comes back with nakie legs and no shoes or socks. At least her dress was ok enough to stay on. Me? I was pretty soaked, but luckily it was all confined to my front-side, so the seat hadn't gotten wet. I had on dark clothes, so not too terribly obvious, I suppose.
So you might think that this is the end of the story, but alas, no...
M then hit the toddler-wall. You know the one where they go looking for something to lose it over? We had ordered ice cream for her, thinking that'd buy us some time until we'd paid the bill. But as soon as the ice cream arrived, she stuck her spoon in it and lost it. MY ICE CREAM IS BROKEN! IT'S BROKEN MAMA!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
I quickly turn to Dh and we mutually, without words, acknowledge that it is time for extraction. I ask if he wants to pay the bill or take the screaming child out. I love it, he is so phobic of figuring out the tip that he immediately grabs M and carries her screaming and beating on his chest out the door. Nakie legs and bare feet flailing.
I then offer the ice cream around, and my student's fiancee, to her wonderful credit, says, "No thank you, it's broken."
You might be thinking that this sounds like the most awful dinner ever, and on some level I think it should have been, except that I couldn't stop laughing the entire time. It was all so perfectly predictable. You know? Just when you think you got something all figured out, that's when you truly get to experience what it means to be a parent.
I am not in control of what happens, just responsible for dealing with whatever it is that comes along.
I really liked what came next... turns out that Dh went outside and a few police were standing right there watching him with a skeptical eye, as they were not sure whether he was dealing with toddler-attack or had snatched the child. Luckily a fire truck with siren went by and that changed M's mood 180 degrees, as those things can do.
As we walked back to our hotel we had to stop for a few minutes, as a movie was being filmed on the sidewalk. Go figure. Fake snow and all. Once we got to pass by, M says, "It's snowing! I'm Santa. Ho ho ho..."
Last weekend, I had the toddler version...
I went to a professional meeting at a cool big city and took M with me 'cause it's one of those meetings where I'm somewhat peripheral so I don't really have to participate all that much, a number of my work-friends go, and it's got lots of kid-friendly kind of content to it (hard to explain, sorry). Anyway, I was there with M and Dh.
One of my past grad students is living there with his new fiancee. A past postdoc was also there, and they had overlapped in the lab, so it made for a good opportunity to reminisce and catch up.
My student picked out a pretty hip and fancy restaurant for us to go to, which in typical hip fashion was pretty loud. This wasn't that big of a deal, but we did have to sit there at the bar for 40 minutes before getting a table. M was pretty good, she drank a huge cup of orange juice (her "cocktail") and was pretty happy sitting on my lap most of the time.
She is essentially potty trained these days, but isn't comfortable pooping in the potty, so she asks to put on a pull-up when she needs to poop. This always happens in the early evening, around dinner time. I was prepared, and when she asked, I put her in a pull-up. All was good.
Then we went and sat down at the table, and after a few minutes she turns to me and has that concerned look all parents learn to recognize. Mama, my poo poo skeezed out.
As I turn to talk with her, I accidentally knock over my glass of water all over my student's fiancee. I even broke the glass.
But back to the poop. This happens, not that big of a deal, so I scoop her up, grab the wipes and head off to the bathroom, pretending not to notice that there is a smear of stuff on the booth where she was sitting (it was dark, I could do this reasonably).
We get to the bathroom and oh la la... poop was everywhere. Everywhere, I tell you. I haven't seen a poo-poo explosion like this in a looooong time. All the way up her back to her shoulder blades. All over one of her arms (mama, there is stinky poo poo on my arm), pants, undies that were on over her pull-up, shoes, oh, and me too 'cause remember I carried her to the bathroom in the dark of the hip and cool restaurnat.
I had to work out a plan. This was one of the more challenging poop incidents I have ever faced, but I embraced the challenge with open arms and a positive attitude. Mama-hood has definitely honed my practical problem-solving skills. I kinda relish in the challenge, to be honest. Ok, so we are good. I got it.
I take her clothes off, use toilet paper to get the major poop off, as that's flushable. Then I use my limited number of wipes (as I was dangerously close to the bottom of the wipes container before we even started on this situation) to get her as clean as I could. She was amazing, just worked with me and didn't freak out. Then we left the stall where we'd been and went to the sink.
I'd like to remind you that I made the cardinal mistake of not taking the entire diaper bag with me, so I did not have any extra clothes with me. This is a super fancy restaurant, so I had to give some serious thought as to how to solve this problem. Clothes all covered in poop. Naked child. A long walk between close-together tables at a very fancy restaurant between me and the diaper bag. Do you leave your kid in the bathroom and dash over to the table? No. That's not an option. Do you try to explain to someone in the bathroom which table is yours, and see if they could get your Dh to bring you the diaper bag? Not a realistic solution. That leaves only...
I rinsed her clothes out in the sink, and luckily all the other women (or at least most of them) were really totally nice about it, laughing and saying they'd been there too. I then explain to M that it was going to be cold, but that I had to put her wet dress back on her so that we could go back to the table to get the diaper bag with her extra clothes in it. She is totally cool with this. Amazing.
The nice bathroom attendant gave me a plastic bag to put the other clothes in. That woman rocks.
I carry wet child back to the table after we'd been gone for like 20 minutes, grab the diaper bag, tell Dh that he needs to discretely wipe down the booth seat beside him, and return to the bathroom. I get M all dressed in a new outfit.
All is good. I am super mom. I solved the most amazing poo poo explosion with style. With class. With finesse. I came away from it with a happy child. Me is soooooooo cool.
Can you guess where this is going?
We get back to the table, I'm enjoying my wonderful glass of wine, recovering from the bad feeling of drenching my student's fiancee with water as I dealt with my poopoo explosion toddler.
Then said toddler starts kind of freaking out a little, needing lots of attention, wanting me to feed her, etc. That's ok, not too bad. A bit out of the norm for her, as she is usually remarkably good at restaurants. But this restaurant is loud, and I can tell that it is hyping her up. We are dealing though, and since she's between me and Dh, we have it fairly contained.
M is then sitting in my lap, as she typically does, when I suddenly feel this really warm wet sensation all across my lap and down one leg.
M looks at me with that look of "uh oh mama, I just peed my pants." Oh yes. Yes you did...
So I sit there for a while and continue with the conversation, as I need time to think of what to do. Remember, I just used the only change of clothes I had in the diaper bag. Do other people carry around multiple changes of clothes?! This is the first time since M was super itty bitty that she needed more than one change of clothes in a 2 hour time-span.
I lean over to Dh and tell him that M just peed on me. He tells me that I shouldn't mention this to my student or his fiancee, as they had just been talking about how they want to try to have a baby in a year. He offers to take M to the bathroom to take her pants off and use the only pull-up we have left. I strongly advise that he have her walk by herself rather than carrying her. She's drenched.
She comes back with nakie legs and no shoes or socks. At least her dress was ok enough to stay on. Me? I was pretty soaked, but luckily it was all confined to my front-side, so the seat hadn't gotten wet. I had on dark clothes, so not too terribly obvious, I suppose.
So you might think that this is the end of the story, but alas, no...
M then hit the toddler-wall. You know the one where they go looking for something to lose it over? We had ordered ice cream for her, thinking that'd buy us some time until we'd paid the bill. But as soon as the ice cream arrived, she stuck her spoon in it and lost it. MY ICE CREAM IS BROKEN! IT'S BROKEN MAMA!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
I quickly turn to Dh and we mutually, without words, acknowledge that it is time for extraction. I ask if he wants to pay the bill or take the screaming child out. I love it, he is so phobic of figuring out the tip that he immediately grabs M and carries her screaming and beating on his chest out the door. Nakie legs and bare feet flailing.
I then offer the ice cream around, and my student's fiancee, to her wonderful credit, says, "No thank you, it's broken."
You might be thinking that this sounds like the most awful dinner ever, and on some level I think it should have been, except that I couldn't stop laughing the entire time. It was all so perfectly predictable. You know? Just when you think you got something all figured out, that's when you truly get to experience what it means to be a parent.
I am not in control of what happens, just responsible for dealing with whatever it is that comes along.
I really liked what came next... turns out that Dh went outside and a few police were standing right there watching him with a skeptical eye, as they were not sure whether he was dealing with toddler-attack or had snatched the child. Luckily a fire truck with siren went by and that changed M's mood 180 degrees, as those things can do.
As we walked back to our hotel we had to stop for a few minutes, as a movie was being filmed on the sidewalk. Go figure. Fake snow and all. Once we got to pass by, M says, "It's snowing! I'm Santa. Ho ho ho..."
