Poop in the Rain

This morning I picked up a poop diaper from the side of the road.

There it was, rolled tight, soggy and heavy from being left out in the rain (cue “MacArthur Park“…).

To be fair, the poop diaper  belonged to my household.

In a new form of laziness last night, rather than dump the offending Luvs just inside the garage where it would be moved to the garbage in the morning, I attempted to throw it over the car in the enclosed garage to the trash can on the other side. Instead, I miscalculated and the diaper landed on the roof of the Rav 4, bumpered by the roof rack.

“Get it tomorrow” seemed like a rational excuse at the time.  However, G unwittingly took the car out afterwards and as she turned on to the main street from our development, the secret diaper went bouncing off the car and into the burm where it still sat this morning. “Ahhh…found the diaper” I nodded to my car-full as we chugged off to school, as if it was a common thing we looked for each morning, a hobo Waldo resting on the side of the road.

And so there I was today, playing Frogger over the lanes to grab that diaper and go before the neighbors think even more/less of me.

This is not my first – or even my most ridiculous – run-in with unexpected #2.

A few years ago, G and I were giving O a bath.  He was only a few months old and it was dark and cold out in the early evening.  Please note that O was our first baby. We were tired. Everything was new.  Did I mention we were tired?

I’m giving him the bath and suddenly *bloop* – poop in the tub. Pardon the details here, but up it popped, a tiny submarine surfacing, happily bobbing along with rubber ducky.  O was unfazed;  We were freaked, but trying to maintain some semblance of structure and control (It’s POOP. In the TUB. With the Baby STILL IN THERE).

The following response is exactly as it happened.  Let me remind the jury that we are two reasonably intelligent, educated and somewhat professional people:

G:      Oh my god.  Is that POOP?
Me:   Yes.
G:      Okay, we need to get it out.
Me:   Hand me the scooper thing.

G hands me the scooper thing previously used to rinse soapy hair; I scoop up the offending interloper and hand it back to her so I can figure out what to do with unfazed/contaminated baby.

Me:  Okay, so you’ve got this, right?
G:     Yup, take it outside…throw it behind the shed.
Me:   Yes, okay….sounds good.

Later that night, I am laying in bed going to sleep and literally sit straight up.

“OH MY GOD,” I said. “THE TOILET!
WHY DIDN’T WE JUST FLUSH THE POOP IN THE TOILET?!?!!!!!”

Let’s recap:

  1.  It never occurred to EITHER of us to flush poop in the potty that was 6 inches behind us in the bathroom.
  2. Why on earth was our first thought – no, why was it ANY thought at ALL – to take the poop outside, in the dark and THROW IT BEHIND THE SHED?!?!?!?!?
  3. It should be noted the shed was in the front yard and right next to our neighbor’s lovely house (sorry, Ann).

Some days it all comes together.  Dinner made, kids bathed, next-day lunches packed, everyone off to bed with smiles and sweet dreams.

Other days, you’re driving around town with a dirty diaper on your roof and tossing poop out with the bathwater onto your front lawn.  🙂

smiling-poop-emoji
Happens

 

 

 

Author: The Baba 'Hood

Brianne L. Croteau is a Huffington Post blogger, writer, artist and founder of the The Baba ‘Hood, a chronicle of her adventures as a Baba, or “Lesbian Dad” to her two young children. In addition to journaling her observations on life, love, parenting, growing older and other related ridiculousness, Brianne’s work has been published in Curve Magazine, Well Rounded NY and Tagg Magazine. She lives with her wife, preschooler, toddler and is currently in need of a lot more sleep. Follow along at www.huffingtonpost.com/brianne-l-croteau or contact her directly at thebabahood@gmail.com

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