At the Risk of Becoming Known as a Poo Blogger…

…but I can promise that there are no pictures anywhere in this post.

I’m sure you’re ALL just dying for an update on my Poopless Princess. Her marvelous talent for being quite literally anal retentive has created some pretty impressive results lately.

For one, a Monday through Saturday fast ended SO monumentally (at Gramamma’s house, thank goodness) that it made my Mom utter the word “Turd” for the first time in her life.

At Sunday dinner.

Whilst holding her hands about four feet apart to illustrate how long it was, in explanation for why she ended up having to plunge the completely stopped up toilet after a TWO YEAR OLD used it.

So I gave Ali Miralax every day last week, in hopes that she wouldn’t be able to continue this new hobby of hers. She STILL went 5 days on her mission of Determined Defecation Delay.

And then…Sunday came.

I REALLY wish it hadn’t.

But it did.

We were eating a nice meal with some good friends at a Mexican Restaurant after church. Ali made the short, high pitched “eeeee!” that she often makes when she needs to go tee-tee. As if the urge hits her out of nowhere. No problem – we hop down and head to the bathroom.

We arrive and I pull down her pull-up and tights all at once and hoist her onto the toilet, not really paying attention to what I’m doing – it happens a lot, after all.

And then I look down.

And I see that while putting her up on the toilet, I have created a horizontal mountain on the side of the toilet bowl. And multiple brown streaks all the way down it, all thanks to the contents of her pull-up.

And then I look down further.

It’s everywhere. All over her tights…legs…you name it.

Thinking that this was going to be a quick tee-tee trip, I had left my purse at the table. I had NOTHING with me. No wet wipes, no extra pull up, no high-powered pressure washer, no white flag to run up the flagpole, no barf bag, no toxic waste protection suit, no phone to call 911. . .

I stood there, looking at Ali, who at this point I had pulled back off of the toilet and was standing there, staring at me.

I spent a minute hoping that one of the other kids would have to come tee-tee, and so another Mom would come to my rescue.

Silence.

Ideally, Chris would empathically sense my desperate need of help and come rushing to my rescue anytime now.

Silence.

I weighed all of my options, and finally decided that our table was close enough to the bathrooms to leave my child in the stall with her poo around her ankles and get my purse.

I mean – what do you do? Her pull-up was certainly not going to be travelling back up her legs!

I told her to stand still and to NOT TOUCH ANYTHING (as she had been very curious about the sideways mountain), and I ran.

I got to the table and in a panicky voice told Chris to hand me my purse and ran back as Chris and all of our friends watched wide-eyed, knowing the carnage that must be behind those bathroom doors.

It took me about 20 minutes and another stopped up toilet to clean up the full reaches of the toxic spill. It included higher levels of difficulties where I gained extra Mommy points such as the fact that the changing table had a significant curve downward, so I couldn’t let go of Ali to throw away my used, um, “accessories”, because she would slide right off, creating even more streaks of unpleasant substance.

But the best part of this whole adventure was Ali. I was panicked about it and focused on the task at hand, but I never fussed at her. She was calm, but she took it upon herself to repeat, over and over throughout the whole ordeal, very matter-of-factly and emotionless,

“I’m sorry that I didn’t recognize that I needed to poop, Mommy.”

We finally got all cleaned up and returned as everyone else was leaving.

But that’s okay.

Seeing as how we were eating Mexican, I really didn’t feel like finishing my refried beans anyway.

p.s. – No one use the handicapped stall at Sol Azteca for a few weeks. It’s stopped up. And might have a few germs left on it.