Princess Poopypants

I think there is one topic that continues to emerge on this blog. It's not the beauty of Hannah, although that's a good one. It's not Jacob's antics or how big Samuel is getting.

It's poop.

There have been several blogs dedicated to poop. Pooping (or not pooping) in the potty, being sick and pooping, teething and pooping...you get the picture.

And today, I revive this topic, with a tale that is both tragic and hilarious...ok, maybe that's a little dramatic.

Hannah got sick over the weekend. We went to Dallas for our annual pumpkin patch trip (photos to come later) and on Saturday as we were headed out the door, Hannah started to act "puny" and feel a little like a fever may be coming on. Short version is that I ended up taking her to one of the weekend clinics before we headed home, and while her strept test was negative, the doctor said her throat was very red, and with her fever, etc. he was going to treat it like strept. So, she got some antibiotics.

We headed home Sunday afternoon and over the next couple of days, Hannah's appetite started returning, she returned to her happy-go-lucky self, and we have continued her on her prescribed antibiotic regimine. All the while, I have been waiting for the antibiotic poops to start. Moms and Dads, you know that of which I speak...

Today, it started.

And it wasn't in the comfort of our own home.

No, it was on Wednesday, the busiest day of our busy week.

We found the poop explosion when we went to get her out of the car for Samuel's fencing lessons and Jacob's karate class. There she was, with soaking wet jeans and what appeared to be poop caked onto her calf, showing out from under her capris. Fabulous. I reached for the diaper bag...and it's not there! Kevin had taken it out of the car. Even better. I have spare diapers, but no wipes, and no spare clothes.

I leave Miss Haley with the boys and head to Target, which is the nearest store that will have wipes and clothes. It's closed for remodeling due to the hurricane. Thanks Ike...you just keep giving, and giving...

My options are limited. I can drive WAY up the highway to Wal Mart, or try the Toys R Us in the same shopping center as Target, so I opt for the TRU, knowing that they have a small Baby section that HAS to include wipes. I also know they have a children's clothing section.

I have a sweatshirt of Jacob's in the car, so I pull Hannah out of her car seat and wrap the sweatshirt in between and around the legs of her soaked jeans. Somehow, I ended up getting poop on the front of my shirt and on the front of my pants. So now, she is coated in it and I am her poop covered accomplice. This just keeps getting better and better!

Still wrapped in the sweatshirt, I take my giggling (yes, giggling) child, and put her into the nearest shopping cart, and wheel her into the store. I am on a mission, and part of that mission involves not being seen by too many of the upity Woodlands shoppers in my poop covered shirt and pants - which happen to be tan linen capris, and really show off the poop nicely.

We head straight for the wipes. Now, who would have guessed that Toys R Us opts to sell wipes in bulk, as opposed to the smaller single packs, or travel packs? I mean seriously, who goes into Toys R Us thinking, "I need a Star Wars Lego set, and a one year supply of baby wipes"? I finally find some that look like they are a small travel pack, so I grab two and head for the clothes. My options are completely limited, and everything that was half way decent that we would actually wear again, and did not include a picture of Elmo, non-classic Winnie the Pooh or Dora was not in her size! I finally found a few options in size 18 months, grabbed one and headed for the check out.

Immediately the cashier looks at Hannah and says "Is she ok?"
"Yes, she's fine. I, on the other hand, just had a poop rocket explode in my car and am trying my best to keep poop off of you, your shopping cart, the clothes, and every other surface in your store. If we can get through this transaction without me smearing it all over your credit card machine, we'll both know that miracles do indeed happen."

She rings me up, we head for the bathroom.

Now, I have changed poop. A lot of it. And good poop. Not just run-of-the-mill, baby-filled-his-diaper poop. I have changed it ALL. Explosive poop, rocket poop (yes, there is a difference), poop that squished up to his armpits poop, poop that ran down his leg....I've done it.

This however, was like nothing I had ever seen or experienced in all of my life.

It was EVERYWHERE. It was on her neck. It was on her shoulders. She had a onesie that was caked in it, and the only way to unsnap the crotch was to stick my hand right into it and unhook that bad-boy. Her jeans were a solid cake of poop down the inside of both legs. Her feet had poop on them (THANK YOU HALEY FOR TAKING OFF HER SOCKS AND SHOES!!). It was an unbelieveable poop fiasco.

Not only was it a ridiculous mess, but I was trying to clean it up in a Toys R Us bathroom, with travel wipes, on a drop down changing table and a crazy, laughing baby that really just wanted to run around the store.

I managed to get her naked, and hold her with one hand while I contorted my body to wash my hands in the sink next to the changing table. Next came her. I wiped her with the wipes, which seemed awfully sudsy, although very small. They were about half the size of the normal wipe. We went through the first pack, and still had poop from tush to waist, and maybe a few streaks left on the legs and feet. It was about the time that I was opening the second pack of wipes that I realized they weren't really baby wipes at all. They were were wipes to use on clothes, to treat baby stains. GASP. I check the ingredients. Looks like the only thing in them is really alcohol. So, I forge on, avoiding the female crevices now, and focusing on the legs and other areas. I wet some paper towels and wipe everywhere else. We're finally clean, and we move onto a new diaper. Her poop covered clothes are in one of the sinks.

During all of this, two people come in to use the bathroom. One of them was pregnant and I think I may have caused her to rethink motherhood.

The other one was a store employee. She tried to be discreet as she pulled a paper towel down and used it to cover the faucet as she turned the water on to wash her hands.

I look down at my clothes and take the wipes and attempt to clean myself. I scrub my hands. I scrub Hannah's hands. I bundle the dirty clothes in our TRU bag, and we race out of the store...all the while I am sure that the shoppers are looking at me with pity, as I trott in my poop pants through the store.

I put a shopping bag in Hannah's seat to cover it, and we make the journey back to the boys' lessons. It has taken a full hour to clean the poopiness of the princess. When I return, both boys know that Hannah had a "big poop". Samuel was not sure whether to be impressed, or disgusted that she had even managed to get it on me.

And so it goes, that once again, we have made it through the latest in the Irving poop expeditions. I am sure it will not be our last.

However, if I never have to clean poop from the neck of my princess, in a Toys R Us bathroom again, I wll be a happy mommy.

Oh well, as the saying goes...One Less Thing to Do in Life.