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Turns out...I still need a diaper bag

Writer's picture: Miranda Fritz-DerflingerMiranda Fritz-Derflinger

And so there I stood cupping poop water in my hands, wearing my favorite sweater and brand new jeans, attempting to judge the distance from the sink to the toilet, wondering how permeable said cupped hands were and how in the world I had managed to even get here in the first place....


the thing about motherhood is, it never really goes as planned and it is most certainly not as glamorous as social media would have you believe.


By most accounts (with the exception of rogue poops and post gatorade pees) my sweet and ever growing #4 is potty trained. We now have approximately 3-7 minutes between the words "potty bad" and actual pottying. A marked improvement from the 10-60 second window you have to navigate in the early potty training days. I now feel confident we can, at a minimum, make it to a bathroom or outdoor area where she can squat and let loose should she need to. In most scenarios this plays out as a cute little pee puddle where the public is none the wiser unless, one does happen to witness the puddle formation. In which case they usually smile, understanding the necessity, given the small child swinging her feet in my arms while her butt gets fresh air. That is not to say that I have never been reassured it's "just pee mommy" only to moments later find myself scooping human feces off a parking lot with a doggy bag. Yes my friends, I keep doggy bags in my diaper bags for such occasions.


It was on such a day that we (#1-4, the dog and myself) headed to the library to return books, select a tote full of new books and take Daisy to the dog park across the parking lot to burn some energy. We finished our science and history lessons for the day and completed the core lessons for the entire year, the week prior. I had time to workout then put on my favorite sweater, my new jeans, a cute pair of heeled boots, just a touch of make up and even did my hair. I added some cute dangle earrings and we were ready to have a great outing. It was one of the first times in a while I got myself put together during the week outside of Sunday mornings for church. I was a little excited to feel like a decent looking human.


Now, having been a mom of four for 2+ years I insisted we all pee prior to leaving, this gives me a sense of security knowing their little bladders couldn't possibly fill and subsequently accidentally spill on the short ride to the library. I should (in theory) be able to avoid the gaggle that becomes the five of us crammed into a handicap stall, taking turns on the public toilet. It is imperative here to point out that, it gives me a rather false sense of security because inevitably someone will have to use the bathroom despite my best efforts to avoid it.


At any rate. We headed to the library. There was a moment as we exited the van, that I truly contemplated bringing the diaper bag inside. I figured it wasn't worth the hassle of carrying it, plus the tote full of books and also trying to keep track of the four kids roaming the isles, collecting a ridiculous amount of books we would never actually check out. I am constantly walking behind them whisper yelling (because we are in a library) phrases like "put that back" and "stop pushing all the books in" or "no I have no idea where you got that book from". I always end our library trips with an apology to the librarian for the stack of books on the "didn't want these" carts. They usually smile, I don't know if they are smiling because we are finally leaving, my kids are cute or they just enjoy seeing kids in the library. I'd like to think its one of the latter.


This day was no different. I left diaper bag in the van reasoning we weren't going to be in there long (it takes maybe 15 minutes for the kids to fill a bag with books) and we had JUST went potty so we were technically in the safe zone by my calculations of time since last liquid consumption, the most recent fluid intake and the filtration rate of my kids kidneys. I even considered the fact that #4 had already pooped that morning and thus we were truly in the clear. It is so freeing to walking into a building with kids and no diaper bag.


We had just finished the chaos of book selections and I was in the process of herding the cats, I mean kids, back toward the circulation desk to check out. #1 was in tow with me when I spotted #2-4 in a corner. 2 was sitting on a couch looking at books trying to decide if the ones she had selected were worth checking out or not, 3 had found an abnormally large rubber duck she tucked under one arm while hopping around on the play lily pads the library placed on a blue matt, I assumed for that exact purpose. It was cute, I almost took a picture until I smelled a smell. I casually but oh so quietly asked "did one of you fart". #2 and 3 looked at me and almost sang "no" in unison with big eyes and smirks on their faces. It was the smirk that demanded I ask again, this time a little hopeful because if it wasn't a fart that really left only one other option. "Did one of you fart" please let it be a yes, or someone else, anyone else with a decaying egg trapped inside their colon leaking out in the form of the most assaulting possible stench. "No mom, we didn't" I sighed and turned to see #4 standing with her feet shoulder width apart and and a blank look on her face.


"Did you poop?" please, please say no.

"Yeah" she nodded enthusiastically.


I know what you're thinking. I am a mom of 4 kids. Surely I have had hilariously disastrous poop encounters, and you would not be wrong in that assumption. I did not panic. Having been a GI nurse, poop does not scare me. I sighed and went over to pat her butt, still hoping (rather naively I might add) that perhaps she had only farted but we were catching the poop in action and had time to get to the potty. Sure enough a nice firm, freshly formed and still warm turd was nestled in 4's pants.


I thought for a moment, I could just change her out in the van, but then I have the smelly turd in a bag in the van and no sink to wash my hands. I could just take the smelly turd to the dog park and dump the bag there, but I wasn't confident I had wipes in the diaper bag. Did I use the last wipe the other day to get the ketchup off of 4's eyebrow? I wasn't sure. I also wasn't willing to risk it. I could just change her in the library bathroom. It was a family style bathroom in the kids section. The other three would be content to sit on the little couches right outside the door and I would have plenty of space. Plus the turd was firm and formed. I figured I would flick the turd out of the undies, wipe her butt with toilet paper, get any poo remnants off her undies with toilet paper and then change her into skid free undies when we got home. Based on my assessment I concluded the bathroom with a toilet, toilet paper, a sink and soap was the best option.


I was wrong.


So very


very


wrong.


We checked out our books, which honestly was my first mistake because now the librarian working knew my name, my address. She could put a name to the disaster that was about to take place. Had I just waited, I could've told the girls we would check out books later and left with anonymity and at least a little dignity. Alas, that was not the case. We checked out books first. So the girls told the librarian all about homeschool, Daisy and the kind of books they like. She smiled while ignoring the revolting smell permeating the air near #4. I can confidently say she was ignoring it because there is absolutely NO WAY she didn't notice it.


I walked them all to the bathroom, had #1-3 sit down on the little couch outside the door and look at books while I carried 4 in and shut the door behind me. I took off her rain boots ready to just toss this turd in the toilet and move on. Her boots come up too high on her legs in order to get her pants down far enough that you have enough space to flick the turd from the undies into the toilet. This is a science I am well versed in (though not to brag, as this also means it is something I have had to master through trial and error, let that percolate for a minute). It was only after removing her boots that I noticed she was barefoot, this never comes as a surprise as I have largely given up the sock fight. If my kids have shoes on, that is a win. I didn't put her shoes on, so I had no way to know in advance if she was wearing socks, which trust me, would have been a point to consider when weighing the options of where and how to manage the poop situation. As it was, the lack of socks meant I couldn't set her down on the ground, not barefoot in a public bathroom. I let a lot of things go as a mom of 4, I am relatively laid back (obnoxiously so compared to some of my friends, you know who you are and I love you for it) but even I have limits.


I still wasn't concerned at this point, because I have changed poopy diapers standing up in an airplane bathroom so I could surely handle this. So much space to squat and maneuver this wasn't a set back. That is, until I got her undies down and went to use the tension of the fabric to essentially sling shot the turd into the toilet when it wouldn't budge. It turns out that turd was a little less formed toward the end, the part closest to her little butt. This was definitely a rogue poop situation. Not only had she already pooped for the day, but this particular poo was a trickster, a shape shifter. It presented as firm and formed but it was just a façade and so here I stood with a very mushy turd stuck to very messy undies dreading what I was about to find upon further assessment.


It was no clean cut turd. This would require wipe action, more so than a quick check to make sure its clean, one and done type of wipe. And there would be no saving of these undies unless I physically rinsed them in the sink which would be disgusting. I didn't have the diaper bag so I didn't have a bag to toss them in and clean later. I couldn't, wouldn't DARE ask the librarian for a bag. I decided it wasn't worth it and slowly pulled them of her legs with the intent to toss them into the trash. The smell was now engulfing the entire room. I had hoped a quick toss and flush of the turd would be the remedy we needed, a reprieve for our over taxed and quite raw senses. But as I got the fabric off of her ankles the momentum from her pulling her feet in the opposite direction, my trying to keep her from falling onto the bathroom floor both pant and sockless, and the weight of the poo filled undies created a certain pendulum of motion. I felt the sleeve of my right arm brush against her bum and before I had time to process the gravity of the consequences that contact to my sweater meant, I felt an ever so soft but oh so very real splatter hit my right knee. She said nothing, I looked down and saw the pooh juice soaking into my brand new jeans.


This was not how I saw it playing out in my head when we walked into the bathroom.

Not one to give up, or shy away from a little mess, I tossed the undies anyway and grabbed some toilet paper. But, as it touched the mess on her butt it began to disintegrate.


This was not toilet paper. This was friggin half ply, rapid dissolving, septic safe, environmental friendly, tree loving, earth friendly, mom in the middle of a poop crisis hating GARBAGE. It was unequivocally useless. I made two more attempts before giving up and deciding it was best to just bathe her in the sink. This is a last ditch, worse case scenario type of alternative but given the mess of now poopy paper that covered her butt it was either the sink or the toilet.


So I set her in the sink. She was a little thrown off balance and slid her feet across the front of the bowl trying to grab onto something that would help her sit still. That is when I saw the poop smeared across the front of the sink. I took a closer look at her legs, there was pooh from her hips to her toes. HOW did this happen? HOW! It was supposed to be a formed turd! I loaded my hands up with soap and started to rub her down, cleaning the poop off of her as best as I could when the sink stopped draining. I was starting to panic. What is worse than clogging a public toilet with poop?


Clogging a public sink...with poop.


I rinsed her off while frantically waiving my hands in front of the sensor, because when I didn't want the water on, the sink was convinced I needed it. And then I needed the water on, the sensor ceased to exist. By this point #4 thinks this is great, she is having a blast. I gave up on the no bare feet on the bathroom floor because I was literally elbow deep in Sh*t water and so I re-soaped her (if that's even a verb) and set her down.


To re-soap oneself (incase you were wondering) is to rub antibacterial soap all over ones wet limbs as if rubbing lotion on with little to no regard for the challenge of rinsing copious amounts of soap off of said limbs in the near future.


It is important to note that the soap was not just in a free container, like what you would by at the store. No it was sensor activated and built into the sink. So the process of getting the soap in itself was no easy feat. You see soap dispensers are not programmed for soap amounts related to say...bathing in a sink. As most people require just a smidge of soap for their hands. Need I remind you we were in a children's bathroom. Children have small hands and this particular library is VERY environmentally conscientious as evidenced by their toilet paper and programed soap dispensing quantity.


The sink was full of light brown soapy water. With little pooh flecks that looked fibrous in nature, could've been the salad we ate for dinner the night before, honestly it didn't matter. What did matter was that the SINK WAS FULL OF WATER. It wasn't draining. I looked around hoping to find paper towels to use to maybe... I don't know, filter out the pooh flecks so I could get the water to drain because the toilet paper would be of no help in this situation (to be quiet honest I don't think it would be of help in ANY situation). I did the only thing I could do. I rolled up my already poopy contaminated sleeves and attempted to swish the water around enough that the particles would move off of the drain and allow the water to pass. I probably would've been more grossed out if my mind wasn't racing with thoughts like:


"What if this never drains. Do I just put her pants back on her all soapy, and walk out calmly like the sink isn't full of e coli water..."


"The librarian just checked us out. SHE KNOWS MY NAME!"


"There are no paper towels...."


"Who made this stupid toilet paper"


"WHY IS THE WATER TURNING ON! Stop turning on!"


I finally stopped the stirring because it was activating the sink sensor and refilling the sink. At least that was diluting the nasty water but it didn't fix my problem. I looked from the sink to the toilet. If I could just drain the sink water, I could remove the particles and then rinse #4 off and be on our way... the sink to the toilet. It was three paces. Could I? I cupped my hands together, three paces...

One pace and I for sure could do it. Two paces and I might get some brown water on my already pooh splashed pants.

Three paces....

I took a breath reasoning it can't possible get worse than where I was in that moment.


And so there I stood cupping poop water in my hands, wearing my favorite sweater and brand new jeans, attempting to judge the distance from the sink to the toilet, wondering how permeable said cupped hands were and how in the world I had managed to even get here in the first place....I took one step...


turns out cupped hands are extremely permeable. I promptly turned around and tossed the water back into the sink with a splash. It sloshed around a bit, mocking me. The last thing I needed was a clogged sink, a soaked floor and an entire bathroom contaminated. The only good thing about this situation was the amount of soap and water involved at this point had finally penetrated the smell of the poop and so it had all evened out. When life gets sour, sweeten it with gratitude.


#4 stood there watching me through all of this, with soap now drying on her lower half. She said nothing, did nothing, just watched. I figured I should get her squared away and then worry about the sink when she was dressed. I called to #1 to check the bathroom next door. The two bathrooms had doors that exited into the children's section of the library with a water fountain between them. Just outside the bathrooms was a small book shelf that blocked the view (partially) from the seating area with two tables. The only other people in the library besides us and the librarian were sitting at that table. But the other bathroom was open. I casually had #1 hold the door open for me, and using my body to block my half naked and very soapy #4, I carried her, her pants and her boots into the other bathroom.


I promptly rinsed the soap off of her in the new sink, that as it so happens, drains much faster than the other sink. Although, to be fair, this sink didn't have poop particles in it. When I finally got all the soap off of her I sighed in the most peculiar way of both triumph and defeat. I turned to find a way to dry her off when I remembered, there are no paper towels. And the stupid hand dryer wasn't like you know any other friggin hand dryer at ANY OTHER library! It was the kind that you have to put your hand inside. Like a little nice hand hole for you to dry just your hands. I suppose that makes sense for people drying just their hands but of all days... So I awkwardly tried to angle 4's foot, then leg, then single butt cheek in the dryer as it blew cold air across her. She laughed the entire time. I finally gave up when I realized she simply wasn't going to get dry at any point in the near future. If by some miracle we managed to go unnoticed up until this point, surely someone would wonder why the hand dryer had been blowing for 20 minutes. Plus, I still had to figure out the clogged sink situation next door. I put 4's pants back on her, grateful that no pooh juice had leaked onto them, then put her boots back on her feet. I took a deep breath and told myself "no one even knows we were in here" and pushed the door open. 4 ran out like she just had the time of her life and I heard #3 in the clogged sink bathroom sobbing "someone wipe my butt"..


the thing about motherhood is, it never really goes as planned and it is most certainly not as glamorous as social media would have you believe.


Thankfully she had already done the work. I just had to check, and it was a quick easy check. When I turned to the sink, it had drained. I wiped the particles out with an obnoxious amount of rapid dissolving toilet paper which I threw in the trash because I was not about to test my luck with it in the toilet. Also, something had to cover up those poop undies. I wiped off the front of the sink and then spent 10 minutes soaping the entire sink up and rinsing it thoroughly before then doing the same with my hands and making 3 follow suit. The cruel irony is the sink was slow to drain even without the poo particles.


We still made it to the dog park, but it turns out, my diaper bag days are not over yet.

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