Super Volcanic Poop Explosion

If I am ever nominated for a blogger type award I am sure it will be for writing about poop and bodily functions more often than any other blogger or at least for writing about them in the most graphic and disgusting way. I won’t be getting mom of the year, best writer who ever lived, or the most coveted award of all: the she made me laugh so hard milk came out of my nose award. Sometimes you just have to go with the material the universe is handing to you and make lemonade out of lemons. Or, good writing out of a super, volcanic, poop explosion.

It all started with a 10 min trip to the post office. I have a package that has been waiting there for over 7 days now. I haven’t been able to pick it up because Tiny-Small has slept through every free moment I have had recently, or we were out of town, or my husband was going to pick it up after work, but forgot to. Then there is the whole I don’t want to leave the house, I hate the post office right now, and I am too tired to drive in a mature and thoughtful way. Anyway, today was the day that we made it out the door with our hair combed, our shoes on, and all of our zippers zippered. It was a beautiful, sunny day full of hope and promise and clean diapers and juice boxes. I drove ten minutes to the post office after strapping Tiny-Small into her car seat like she was about to embark on the greatest roller coaster ride of her life.

We arrived in one piece. I got her out of the car and she smelled a little funny. Gas. It was only gas. So, I set her down on the sidewalk and held her little hand in mine. We started walking towards the Post Office with old, grandpa-types tipping their hats, other hurried mothers whizzing past us while their babies squealed and waved to Miss Tiny-Small, and of course young women who stopped to tell me Tiny-Small had pretty eyes. All in all, a pretty normal, slightly average walk to the post office. Then we got inside and the line was curling around the room and out of the office doors. Ugh.

I sighed and got in line. Then I looked down just in time to witness the volcanic poop bubbling out of Tiny-Smalls diaper and watched as it started running down her legs. Her baby diaper cover up, which was white with a little yellow butterfly on it, was quickly turning brown and oozing with the explosive nature of her, well, nature. Her dress was drippy and the only thing stopping this mess from hitting the ground was her socks and shoes. I grabbed her and ran to the car sacrificing my own clean clothing in the process. There wasn’t much I could do but run, run, run! I finally got the car door open and Oh, H. E. double-hockey-sticks. I forgot the diaper bag. Of course, I did! I’m still me, right? Just because birds are singing, flowers are blooming and the sun is shining doesn’t mean I’m suddenly THAT mom that has it all together. Where was my sister? She’d have a diaper in her purse and wipes even though she doesn’t have any kids and rarely spends time with babies. She is always prepared for everything! Not me though. I go through life by the seat of my pants and a devil may care attitude. Well, I’m pretty sure the devil was laughing at me, and probably God too. I’m certain I am the one amusement they can both agree upon.

Well, I plopped Tiny-Small into her care seat. Not much to do but spread the mess around and head for home as quickly as possible. I pulled out of the parking lot and within seconds an ambulance came barreling down the road towards me. For some reason many, many New Mexican drivers don’t seem to know that when an ambulance is coming it is customary to pull over to the side of the road and wait for it to pass. So, pulling over and stopping can be a real chore when you are trying to get out of the way of an ambulance and avoid being crashed into by drivers who have obviously never been to driver’s education a day in their life or ever bothered to read a drivers manual. Pulling back onto the road after the ambulance has passed is an action that requires prayer, scrunching of the eyes, and waiting for the squeal of wheels before the crash. We had a near miss, but eventually made it back onto the road in one piece and headed for home.

I was supposed to go to the post office, the grocery store, and the bank. Instead I went home, stripped the baby, bathed the baby, and washed the laundry. Tomorrow it will be 8 days my package has been collecting dust in the post office begging someone to break into it, begging to be returned to its original owner, or begging for mice to move in and take up residency. Oh well, Tiny-Small doesn’t feel good and her little tummy hurts. She wants to be home with her mom watching “Boz” drinking lots of fluids and holding Elmo dog. She is cranky, and has a new nickname: Miss Poops-a-lot. I am sure that nickname will be the catalyst for her future therapy visits if my writing about our little adventure doesn’t do the trick first.

2 thoughts on “Super Volcanic Poop Explosion”

  1. Awe!! Poor little Tiny-Small!! I hope she feels better soon. Doesn't it always figure they have these issues when your not prepared? I hope your able to get your package soon!

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