It took a long time for my brain to switch to work mode. I was so used to carrying around diapers and fourteen days worth of crackers that I often walked in to client meetings and sighed as I shoved aside four diapers, wipes, three fruit leathers and a nondescript item from what appears to be of a “gummy” family. Or once was.
I can’t tell you when it happened that I actually stopped carting around my child’s extra pair of panties in my purse, but I did. I started feeling like a woman again, not just the mom of two young children. At some point, I started leaving for work with just my laptop and a yogurt. I mean, how sensible is that?
Apparently, it’s just SO sensible that I forgot my child still craps himself. Frequently.
Talk about sensible.
So what I’m about to share with you is my sensible, and very tactful way, of dealing with a ... um.. “shitty” situation for lack of a better term. (Or the want to use one.)
I met with a fellow company about some plans and was forced to bring the two kiddos with me. I mean, hey! What’s a work meeting without yelling at your children in the play area? Who ISN’T professional without “pink milk” dribbling down one’s arm and a nearly-five year old yelling, “I HAVE TO PEE MOMMY!”
After a while, saying good-bye, I realized my son smelled of poo. It’s not something you usually bring up with clients/co-workers, etc, or people without children at all for that matter, about the consistency and smell of poo. Fellow Moms have no qualms saying, “Oh, yea, his turds nearly fall out of his pant-leg if he has too much cheese.”
For some reason, that topic just doesn’t seem to .. cut it? In this environment. (No, I won’t stop the puns, damnit! I WILL NOT RELINQUISH THE PUNS.)
I dragged the children to the restroom and discovered sensible, classy-dressed me, only had my small black purse, cell phone, wallet, and one solitary cracker. No wipes. No diaper. Nothing.
So I improvised.
I took off the poopy diaper, gagged, and shook the turd out in to the toilet. “What are you doing, Mommy?!” my son asks. “I’m putting the poopoo where it belongs” because THIS IS A TEACHABLE MOMENT PEOPLE. BY GOD I LEARNED SOMETHING FROM DOCTOR PHIL.
Next I sat him down on the potty and wrapped a length of toilet paper in to folds. Over and over I folded the toilet paper until it could cover the soiled area on the diaper. “What are you doing, Mommy?” he asks. “I am making this clean so you can wear it again, Buddy. I have no new diaper.”
“NOOooOOOOOO IT IS YUCKY!”
This is the first time my two year old ever made any sort of logical sentence in his life.
“Yes, it’s yucky. Now, let’s try to go poopoo in the potty, ok? NO NO STOP TOUCHING THE TOILET WATER.”
I slapped the diaper back on him, all to his disgust, and washed (twelve and a half times) their hands and mine.
We left looking sensible. Clean. And nobody would ever have known except for the strand of toilet paper coming out of my son’s tush.
Welcom, kiddo, to my world.
Sensible. Isn’t it, though?