(originally posted April 29th 2008)
#2.
(Yes, that number two.)
Order reigns in the universe.
Natural laws accompany most things. Murphy's Law is my particular
favorite. In fact, I think from now on I will write down Murphy's Law in
every baby advice book at every baby shower I go to from now on.
Whatever can go wrong, will.
This
is not to depress new mothers, just prepare them. To go along with
that, here is a famous quote that has been widely applied to only one
demographic.
You can't take it with you.
This
is a quote that is usually applied to greedy people who care more for
money than mankind, or doing good things. That is a time tested
application of that quote, but I have a better one. You can't take it
with you should be used to comfort all mothers who are sad because their
child has broken the last thing in the house. Now, when you sagely
quote this to new mothers, these same mothers may say to you that if
they can't take "it" with them, they can still throw "it" and then you
will be in pain moments later.
But I digress from disclosing Poop File #2. Here is the natural law I have found with each file.
No matter how bad the experience is, a worse one will follow.
This
philosophy has never failed me. I had terrible poop file #2 all ready,
but I decided to go out of order and write the one that was worse, so
that you may see the natural law of diaper poop in action.
Scene.
The dollar store.
I
was buying loads of dollar toys to motivate Cleve to go to the bathroom
in the potty. He knows how, hes done it before, but inexplicably, Cleve
decided one day to stop. So motivation was needed. A wonderful quality
about children is that they think a dollar toy is just as fun as one
that costs five times more, so like every other ruthless mother, I was
taking full advantage of that naivete.
Suddenly,
a familiar aroma filled the air. Interestingly, this aroma no longer
bothers me. Its more like, a warning bell that goes off. Yes, sometimes
the warning bell gets "loud" and extremely persistent, but it is just an
indication that something needs to be changed. (get it? haha) A
new mother of one rushes to the car the very second milk has processed
through her baby's system, but a seasoned mother of three reasons that
she's almost to the check out line so aromatic infant can wait a few
minutes more. I got to the check out stand, and since there were many
many people in the store that day (the dollar store was actually having a
sale) I was assisted in unloading my cart by a very kindly woman who no habla englais. She was trying to tell me something, and this is what I heard,
"Blah blah blah blah BABY blah blah POOP blah blah blah...." I assumed she was referring to the now thick cloud of babyness
that was surrounding us, so I smiled apologetically, said I was going
to change him as soon as I got to the car, and continued on up to the check stand. The checker's eyes widened as she looked at me, and she asked wonderingly, "Is that mustard?"
Confused, I looked down to see a gigantic dollop of what appeared to be
thick and creamy mustard on my white (It had to be white) shirt. Even
seasoned mothers can be incredibly dense, and the connection didn't
spark for a few seconds. I dabbed the dollop, smelled it (Weirdly, the actual substance
seemed to have no smell), and then I looked at my baby. Like the ending
of a movie where you're shown the connecting points of a mystery, the
horrifying reality unfolded before me. First, I saw this same yellow
substance coating my son's legs and car seat.
Then, I looked at the conveyor belt, and saw the same ghastly yellow
"mustard" on the remaining toys left on the conveyor belt. Then, like a
television crime scene, the worst sight was last. As though in slow
motion, I slowly looked up to see the mustard all over the hands and shirts of the checker and bagger!!!!!!! Now, I know you
all have figured out what this was, of course, but at the time I was in
such a state of blank disconnection that it really did take me this
long to have it dawn on me that this.........was................POOP!
Lots, and lots of poop. Within seconds, I realized the chain of events.
I had piled many dollar toys, and my wallet in my baby son's car seat.
(He likes to feel the items, and play with them). He then had a blowout
all over the items and my wallet. I, of course, did not hear or see
this S.B.D attack. (That's silent but deadly folks)
In taking my wallet out of the car seat, I had gobbed myself with poop, and the non english speaking employee had tried her darndest to warn me! To avoid future misery, I apparently need to learn spanish.
ThisIn an effort to vacate this disgusting family from her store as
soon as possible, this sweet woman had piled all my toys onto the
conveyor belt, thereby coating the belt with poop. The checker and bagger
had checked and bagged almost all of the toys by the time they
themselves realized they were handling toxic waste. So by the time my
brain had processed it, poop was everywhere. In fact, so coated was the
conveyor belt that it had cycled around, and was now moving in one long
continuous yellow streak! In ABJECT MORTIFICATION I took in the
destruction my son (and me) had inflicted upon this poor defenseless
dollar store! Holy holy holy holy cow! Red as a tomato, I choked out
apology after apology to the maximumly
grossed out employees (not to mention the dozens of nauseated shoppers
around me), paid for my soiled goods, and fled that store as fast as a
poop painted mommy could run!
Now I am really getting afraid. This
file, "the worst poop experience EVER", was definitely worse than the
last time, which I had also described as "the WORST poop experience
EVER." Following the natural law going along with poop, it leaves me to
wonder fearfully,
Holy freak, what poop evil awaits me next.
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