"Too Late". The two worst words a potty training mother can hear when she's out and about. It means there is a mess to be cleaned up, clothes to be changed and a quick exit to be made. A few days ago Dustin uttered these words to me during a trip out to "Kennedy's new house". I will share with you the rather humerous story parents of any toddler can appreciate. WARNING: This post involves poop. Proceed at your own risk.
Potty training is really going well for us. Other than the night of this accident, we haven't had any issues in weeks. Maybe this is why it didn't cross our minds to grab Kennedy's bag one night last week when we made a quick trip out to check the progress on our house. Once we scaled Dustin's perfectly laid out bridge across the mud, we all went our own directions looking at the new work that had been completed. We had stairs, parts of a roof and could see how high our ceilings were going to be. Dustin and I were deep in conversation and Kennedy was busy running around. Nothing new here. She always runs around like a wild banshee when we go to the building site.
After being there for about 10 minutes, though, I noticed she had stopped running and had assumed "The Potty Stance". Yes, moms, you know what I'm talking about. Knees turned in toward each other, slightly bent, hands grabbing herself. Fear grasps my heart. We are in the middle of a construction site. Do I teach my 2 year old how to squat in the backyard? Do we dare the porta potty in the front? Can we make it down to the Johnson's house before it's too late? "Kennedy, do you need to go potty?" She shakes her head no, while giving me a blank stare. Enter Dustin.
D: "Uh oh, too late"
Me: "Ok, well, at least it's just pee"
D: "Uh........not so much"
Great. No need to get my panties all in a bunch. What is done is done. Dustin picked her up and carefully worked his way back across the bridge he made, making comments as time went on. "Oh, Kennedy, you stink". He's having to carry her at such a weird angle, she can't utter a response. My momma bear kicks in, "don't be mean, she can't help it. It's bad enough she went in her pants, don't make her feel worse." Little did I know what would be slipping from my very lips a few minutes later.
Thinking this was a typical Kennedy poop, I slip down her pants in the back hoping to easy rid ourselves of the problem with a few Kleenex I found under the seat (remember, we didn't have her bag). Dustin could throw it in the porta potty and we'd head home for a quick bath. Ummm, no. It was....bad. Use your imagination. Bad. We had no new panties (the old ones were destined for the trash), we had no wipees, we had no water. I had a handful of Kleenex. Have you ever tried to wipe poop off of a little squirming bottom with Kleenex? Not easy. Her panties were full, her pants were dirty and I was working with 6 Kleenex and a rag we had thrown in just in case we needed to wipe the mud off of our feet.
K: "Kennedy poop"
Me: "Yes, yes you did"
K: "Owie momma, ow. Hurt Kennedy's bottom"
Me: "I know baby. Sorry. Momma's trying to get the poop off your bottom"
K: "I have poop on my bottom?"
Me: "Yes. On your bottom, on your pants, on the seat of the car. Yes, honey, you have poop."
K: "Oh, Kennedy poo poo, yay!!!"
We hid in shame from the walker who went by, hoping they didn't want to meet the new people who had poop on their hands. I halfway mentioned going up to a new neighbor's house to ask for help. I know them on a friendly basis, but Dustin doesn't and he simply refused. I don't think he wanted our first time to talk to them in a neighborly way to go something like, "Hi Katie, Kennedy sh*t her pants. Could we please introduce her toxins to your house and use some wipes and maybe borrow a spare pull up or a pair of Atala's pants?"
Long story short, after a failed attempt to clean her bottom and her pants, I put her pants back on her. They only had a little bit of poop left on them, and her bottom wasn't completely clean, so what difference did it make, right? Any other mom would do the same thing. Right? Come on now, I need some reassurance from you all out there. We buckled her into her car seat, threw the yuckiness into the bed of the truck and took off toward home. Dustin offered to drop me off at Wal-Mart so I could buy a few things for dinner, go bathe the nasty girl, then come pick me up. Perfect. I cruised into Wal-Mart and reached into my purse to find my list and pulled out a small package of wipees. Perfect.