Sunday, September 16, 2012

Holden shat himself good. And then invented a new kind of pants.

Yesterday, the girls started their first ballet class.

We didn't have the proper ballet outfits yet, so I dug through all of their clothes and put on the pinkest things I could find.

About to walk out the door and running late, I said to myself, "Fuck it. Holden is 2 1/2 now. A big boy. What are the chances that he's gonna need a change of clothes?"

And so we walked out the door, the girls in their pink and me feeling a new sense of liberation.

Now, I think it goes with out saying that not bringing another set of clothes was a grave miscalculation on my part.

After we were done with all our plies and jetes, we were on our way to Payless to get ballet shoes. We pulled into a strip mall and were walking through a Gamestop when Holden promptly oozed shit out of every pore in his body.

I could tell by the tears, that the dude standing next to us was choking back vomit.

The poop carnage was so bad, that just looking at him I could tell that the outfit he was wearing was going straight in the first store-side garbage receptacle that I could find.

Please don't look me in the eye while I do this, guy coming out of the Radioshack. I really DO need to discard these shitty clothes and this is the only place, short of leaving them for the next unfortunate soul to pull into our old parking space.

Or bringing it in my car, which, let's be honest, just ain't fucking happening.

So we walk off to the car, him waddling like a cowboy in chaps who just rode the "mean" horse, to figure something out.

And when we got there, what I soon discovered was that not only did I not have a change of clothes for him, but in all my hurried-dumb-assedness, I had packed one diaper and exactly zero wipes.

Plus, he was so covered head to toe that I did not even know where to start, or how to lay him down in the car without coating my beautiful leather seats in oozing diarrhea.

Now, how in the fuck do I handle this?

Thinking quickly, I checked the trunk for extra supplies. I didn't find any diapers, wipes or pants, but I did find a hooded sweatshirt and a long sleeve shirt that one the kids had thrown off in the car because they were too hot.

No pants? Two shirts? Ok. We will make this work somehow.

We had just left McDonald's, which was definitely the cause of this situation.

Damn you, McDonald's, for your diarrhea inducing fare.

Thankfully, I had stuffed all of the kids empty happy meal bags and a bunch of napkins into the bag containing the survivors of the great chicken nugget massacre of 2012.

We have napkins and some paper bags. Things are looking up.

Trying to act fast, as not to get CPS called to ask where to send my "Parent of the Year" award, or to have to explain why I shouldn't be in the Sex Offenders database to the nice police officers, I opened my passenger side door and stripped him naked.

Sorry to any fellow strip mall shoppers that my son might have offended. I couldn't exactly expect the 19 year old behind the counter in Gamestop to sympathize and let me use the middle of his floor as a changing table.

I wiped the visible yucky parts and stuck the empty paper bags on the car seat as a protective liner. Then I used the napkins and, "Oh God, Yes! I found Purell!", to clean up what I could and get a new diaper on the kid.

Gagging, I stuffed the dripping diaper and poop shrapnel into one of the McDonald's bags.

Ok, he's no longer vomit inducing, but he's still nude. And we need to shop. And I'm sure I would get more looks with a naked kid than I did with Smelly-Mc-Smellypants as my shopping partner.

So I grabbed the old long sleeve shirt and put it on him.

Alright, the top is covered. But again, we don't have any pants. And much as I'm sure my husband would also appreciate the loosening of store policy, I'm fairly certain you cannot shop pantsless.

Well, fuck. A hooded jacket has two arms, that's kinda like legs for pants.

So I zipped up the jacket and stuffed his legs into the arms.

Ok, legs are covered. But he still looks like a neglected CPS case, who is wearing a jacket for pants.

So I grabbed a hairband from my console (the clip kind, not the 80's cheese metal kind, although we could have used some background music) and told him to stand up on the ground.

In a stroke of panic-inspired genius, I pulled the hood from the jacket up between his legs to the waistband of the upside down jacket and then tied the hood and excess waistband into a little knot.

So now, not only did he technically have pants and no longer smell, but we probably created some new thing people are going to start doing on Pinterest.

Pin away my lovelies.

Just remember, when you wear your super cool "Jacket-Pants" that they are diarrhea inspired.

The new designer Diarrhea Pants.