Last month, I handled the most massive, disgusting diaper blowout in my life.... which, after dealing with the various explosions of four kids, that's saying something. Epic intensity. Code Brown. Code Double Brown. Everywhere. All four kids in the car were screaming because of the stench and mess... Had to perform emergency damage control and clean-up in the Chik-FIL-A parking lot.... Barefoot....
Horrific, but still laughable... because if I didn't laugh I would cry ...
It began when I asked poor little Butch Cassidy, who sits next to the baby in the car, if he smelled something bad... I suspected that LLL had a "bad diaper". After sniffing carefully, he reacted violently, and INSISTED that I pull over and do SOMETHING... because her seat was COATED in poop. BC said it was flowing like lava out of her seat. He wasn't exaggerating.
To make matters worse, and to fully illustrate the disgusting hilarity of the situation, my wild child kept shaking a toy that had was saturated in her filth and it was getting all over him. Her toy-swinging flung the nastiness into the back row as well, so the other two kids, Sundance and the Princess, were going berserk all while LLL laughed and continued to wildly kick her feet.
The Princess was mostly concerned about the flying poo landing on her ponytail.... It's like she would have been fine with it landing anywhere else on her.... but NOT ON MY HAIR!!!! NO POO ON MY HAIR!!! The car was in complete and total chaos... screaming and yelling.... it made me think of what I imagine a prison riot to sound like... or one of the lower layers of Hell in Dante's Inferno.
Sundance alternated between whining about the stench, saying that his eyes were burning OFF.... and threatening to put the poo on the Princess. I had to carefully extract LLL from her poo-covered carseat, lay her down on MY seat in the car, remove her clothing, scrub her clean with wipes, replace her diaper that had been blown to smithereens, THEN cover her filthy car seat with various receiving blankets, towels, McDonald's napkins and anything else I could find in my car to keep her from being re-soiled... I felt like the MacGuyver of Motherhood...the toy (it had links attached to it... which increased it's slingability) that was soiled was safely removed from the Danger Zone of her eight-month-old hands and stowed for a good Lysoling.
I had to ride with all the windows down, and listen to Sundance work himself into a frenzy about how his hair would never smell the same after being STAINED by THAT SMELL... yes, he's only 4. I know, right? I mean this is the same kid that took a poo in the outside garbage can.
Whatever.
I turned up some Grateful Dead to where I couldn't her the din in the backseat and drove home. And what's even crazier is that I wouldn't have it any other way.
I love my life.
Less poo-riffic occasions would be nice, however.....
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