With 4 children, life can get a little, well, hectic to say the least. Our kids are 11, 9, 6, and 2 1/2. We are usually rushing in a very organized although seemingly chaotic way to get everything done in a given week. It would seem that weekends are for relaxing, sitting around eating bon-bons, and catching up on a few loads of laundry.

Not around here. We primarily spend our weekends at many of the kids’ sporting events changing spirit shirts in the car so that we can show up ready to cheer on each team. Somewhere in the middle of running to games or practices, we have to manage to eat a few meals, go to the grocery store, and restore the house to livable conditions without the use of hired help.

Well, on a given Sunday a few weeks ago, the absolute unthinkable happened. It’s a chain of events that will forever haunt me in my mind, thoughts, and memories.

We had a busy day ahead and scrambled to get out the door to begin our day of activities. We dropped one of our children off at a friend’s house so we only had 3 children (11, 9, 2 1/2) with us on that unforgettable day. We proceeded to the children’s favorite place, the grocery store. After hearing all the whining and complaints about “It’s going to take forever” and “How many things do we need because you always tell us it won’t take long, mom” we entered the store.

Things started off fairly well until about 30 minutes into the shopping excursion, our 2 1/2 year disappears around the corner to find a “hiding spot.” “Hiding spot” is code for going poop. We all give each other the “Oh, great” look realizing that this is not only taking up time, time that we don’t have because we still need to finish shopping, squeeze in a bite of lunch, then rush the 11 year old to football practice in about an hour.

While the toddler proceeds to do his business and my 11 year old is complaining that we need to hurry or he will be late to practice which would mean the world will come to an end, I instruct my husband to pick up some baby wipes. Of course, in the midst of rushing earlier in the day, I neglected to grab my diaper bag. I did have a spare diaper in the car, but no way of cleaning the mess.

Now, here is where it gets really fun! While my husband checks out, we realize we really are cutting our time close so I take the kids over to the nearby McDonald’s to pick up lunch. While waiting for the food, I placed our poop infested child on a seat next to my daughter. While she complains about the offensive odor, I decide to check the damage. Just my luck. I no sooner pull the diaper gently back before I am fingertip deep in, yes, you guessed it: poop! My now horrified and shocked face is enough to communicate to my children that we have a problem. I rush to the restroom to perform a surgical scrub on my finger. I used all available soap in the soap dispenser, but, lucky for me, the water pressure was severely lacking and it took 5 minutes just to generate a single bubble.

Disgusted about the potential e. coli making a home under my fingernail, I inform my husband that it is now imperative that we find another bathroom where I can change “stinker” and re-wash my hands. However, time was moving at hyperspeed and it is now apparent that we must leave right now to get the 11 year old to practice on time. So, off we go, poopy diaper and all.

Upon arrival at football practice, I look back and see that the little Poopinator has fallen deeply asleep in his warm steaming stench. My husband and I decide to give him a few minutes to rest before disturbing his sleep and suffering the wrath of a prematurely awakened child. After about 15 minutes, we decide we have to change him, it’s do or die.

Keep with me here, the best is yet to come. As I lifted him from the car seat, I realize we have a serious situation on our hands. The compressed poop has now risen over the top of the diaper and is now pancaked into his shirt and pants, not to mention the Picasso like picture that is painted all over his back. This is not good! We decide that this is going to require some serious intervention. Another shopping trip, but this time for a set of clothes, a clean bathroom, and a fresh start.

There is a major retailer nearby. Notice, I did not give the name of the retailer for I am so ashamed of the circumstances I am about to reveal at this major retailer. Still being a little drowsy, the 2 1/2 year old wants to be carried in the store. However, this is completely impossible and, while I do love my children with all my heart, I just can’t bear the thought of wrapping my loving arms around all that poop. So, I scoop him up and place in the cart standing up and let him hold on to the seat back. Today of all days, he doesn’t want to ride like this and screams the whole way through the store about wanting to sit in the seat, drawing attention to the fact that I’m such a terrible mother for letting my child stand up in the cart.

I try to scan the clothing options quickly and tell my husband to go grab diapers and wipes because we inadvertently left them in the car during this whole ordeal. While my husband is off diaper browsing, my 2 1/2 year old is about to spontaneously combust if he doesn’t sit down in the seat, so I finally give in to his hysteria. I pick him up and set him in the seat. Should be a simple process right?

Well, the whole seat contraption collapses and falls inside the basket with my child still sitting in it. Now, here’s the best part. As if in slow motion, the impact of the seat hitting the inside of the cart causes enough force to be placed on the delicate poop filled diaper and allows about 1 cup worth of slimy poop to go flying into the air and then land in the bottom of the cart.

Stunned, speechless, and hoping I’m really in the twilight zone, I stand motionless unsure if I can really believe what just happened. My daughter that is with me is laughing so hard she can hardly speak or move. I quickly try to assess the situation and determine my next move. I try to steady my son in the cart while pushing the cart over to the diaper aisle to get my husband’s help. Only, to my continued horror, as I am moving the cart, a path of poop is being generated on the carpet of the little boy’s clothing section. The movement is causing the poop to seep through the holes of the cart on to the ground. Did you get that all on camera, Mr. Major Retailer?

Time to abandon cart. Just about this time, my husband returns thinking all is status quo. As he approaches, I am giving air traffic control signals to keep him from stepping in the poop trail. We grab our child and run for the nearest check out counter.

We decide that the changing process would be a 2 person job and make way for the family restroom. Of course, the family restroom was occupied. However, it was strangely quiet for a family restroom so after a minute or so we knock. There was no response, but we continue to wait determined to gain access so that we can have privacy as we bathe and clothe this sweet mess of a child. After 10 minutes, the sound of the flushing toilet and subsequent water running from the faucet indicates that our time is near. Finally, the click of the lock and the door opens. Emerging from the “family” restroom is a 70′s something elderly women who proceeds to walk into the women’s restroom as though maybe she needed a little more bathroom time. I’m not sure if there was some Alzheimer’s involved, but we just needed to get into that bathroom.

While attempting to clean our son, he is not at all cooperative. He is shouting at the top of his lungs, “I hate you” and “Why you do this to me?” We are certain that security is going to bust through the door at any moment to accuse us of child abuse and for causing a store-wide health hazard by abandoning the poop cart. However, after several minutes, we are back in the car vowing never to show our faces in that store again.

Tags | potty training, toddlers, toilet training