For the faint of heart, please do not read this – I’m a mom and dealing with pee & poop in any form and at any time is apparently one of my responsibilities… Seriously – I am not sure what lesson God is trying to teach me, but being up to my elbows in pee & poop is NOT fun.
In the past 10 days, I have had to take Curly to a public restroom after she has peed all over the floor / shopping cart / miscellaneous items in the cart, etc., FOUR separate times. Four. The most recent occurrence took the cake and I literally almost went psycho-pregnant- hormonal-crazy-lady on someone…
We are attempting to potty train Curly. She will tell us (on occasion) when she wants to go – she will go several times without needing a diaper or pull up – and then she gets busy playing or watching TV and doesn’t mind relying on her diaper. Cant’ blame her – she’s not quite 2, so we’re only pushing lightly – and she’s getting the hang of it.
HOWEVER – going into the public realm seems to beg for other disturbing and traumatic events. Keep in mind that I am now 35 weeks pregnant. Also keep in mind that Curly is very tall and built very solidly at her young age so carrying her is really not an option for me at the moment.
Twice now at Wal-mart and once at Joann fabrics, I have been on my way to the women’s or family restroom in the very back of the store to change Curly’s diaper, and we have found it necessary to call for the “Spill Team” to clean up either a trail or a puddle that has collected underneath the cart Curly is sitting in.
I have found myself BAWLING in the restroom because the baby wipes &/or extra clothes that I thought were packed in the diaper bag are not to be found, and I get to improvise…
The last and fourth time was Friday evening. Curly & I were at Wal-mart after I’d gotten my hair cut. She had just filled her diaper with an unpleasant substance, and I headed back to the FAMILY restroom. I stopped by the baby department to pick up one of those travel packs of wipes, because AGAIN, the travel pack in the diaper bag was missing.
The family restroom seems to always be located at the VERY back of the store. I arrived to find the restroom occupied by a male, considering the voice who responded when I knocked.
Now, I know the reason they have these family restrooms is for such an instance when a parent, male or female, requires a little more room and some kind of privacy to handle theirs or their childrens’ bathroom needs. I pushed the cart into the game aisle and we walked around for several minutes waiting for the aforementioned occupant to exit. I returned, knocked on the door again – still locked.
In the meantime, 2 other SINGLE individuals attempted to enter said restroom (while I am standing RIGHT THERE) only to find it locked. By the second person, I was pretty well calling my place in line OUT LOUD and staking my claim to the family restroom.
While standing outside the locked door, Curly grabbed at her stomach and started saying “Owie” and proceeded to pee ALL OVER THE FLOOR. Bless her heart. She couldn’t stop if she wanted to.
So now, there is a pee puddle all over the floor – the cart is wet, and I am really at my wits’ end. I knock AGAIN on the door – no response – and start to think that I should call for a manager to check on the bathroom in case someone is unconscious, OR if somehow the door was locked as the last person exited.
The “cherry on top” experience came, when a Wal-Mart associate – a single female – attempted to walk into the family restroom – while I was standing at the door waiting.
I thought I was going to scream.
My child is soaking wet – she is poopy – the floor is wet – the plastic wipe case I’m going to purchase and haven’t even opened yet is wet – and this lady thinks she’s going to use the FAMILY restroom while I’m standing right there??? I said to her – “I’m in line for that restroom.”
She didn’t even look at me and just went into the women’s restroom.
Just when I was ready to start crying – ONLY because I am 35 weeks pregnant and hormones are wreaking havoc on my body & emotions – the door to the family restroom opens. Out walks a young male – probably 16 years old, who cranes his neck and GLARES AT ME – most likely assuming that I’ve been the one who kept trying the locked door to get in.
I’m telling you right now, if he had opened his mouth to say one smart-mouthed thing to me – I would have gone psycho-pregnant-hormonal-crazy-lady on him right there in the back of walmart with my child sitting in her sopping wet cart and diaper and clothes, and would have welcomed a light jail sentence – in isolation – free of poopy diapers and inconsiderate morons who think the family restroom is to be used by anyone at anytime.
Can I be honest? The length of time the young man spent in there, had me thinking I’d better take a DEEP breath before I walked in because he MUST have been having some issues. But no – no malodorous presence was waiting. So then I started wondering what took him so freakin’ long in there and then I figured I probably didn’t really want to know…
So I’ve decided as much as I love being with Curly and shopping with her, in order to save my sanity, I may have to avoid – at all costs – trips to Walmart with Curly.