My child has been potty trained for over a year now. We still remind her quite often to go because she has an occasional accident. But, she is a three-year-old wishing for independence, therefore, reminding her to go usually leads to a battle. I have been trying to give her more bathroom freedom because I do feel like she gets it. It’s all about the give and take, you know?
Lately, I am obsessed with Trader Joes. I tried it before on several occasions and did not really love it enough to make a special trip there weekly or even monthly. I already frequent three other grocery stores. I figured that was enough. Then, we received one of their fabulous sales papers and I decided I wanted to try it again. I am hooked. While I’m not Costco-obsessed with TJ’s, I am undoubtedly having a major love affair with them. They have so many great, healthy, inexpensive things! They did not pay me to say this. In fact, nobody is paying me to say anything. Weird. In fact, one might say, there are probably people who would pay me to shut up.
Last week, we were out of Sunflower Seed Butter. In our home, this is a crisis. I planned a trip with the tot. I consider it to be an outing because it involves parking in a parking garage and it is in the next town over. I don’t know why the parking garage complicates it. It just does. It also takes forever to get there. I checked it out and it’s only five miles but it feels like forever. Perhaps I need to seek an alternate route. Perhaps I need to find something else to obsess about.
Anyhow, we went. Bird loves it. She found one of those little carts for kids. She was happy as can be. We made it through the produce, coffee and cracker section. We were debating some raisin bagels. She started to do a little dance. I couldn’t tell if it was a potty dance or just a this-music-really-moves-me thing. I questioned if she needed to use the facilities. She said no. Oh! And here we go. This is the part where you figure out I am, indeed, about to write about my child and her frail, inexperienced bladder. I say, no, not her bladder this time, her bowels! I really pulled one over on you. It’s funny to me! So many things are funny to me about child rearing. So so so so so many things. Some people may disagree. These people may go as far as to say raising children is a very serious matter. I, on the other hand, think it’s funny. Yes, it is serious too but, my child will still be okay even if I write about her accidents on the internet. Believe me, there are a thousand different ways in which I am 100 percent certain I can screw up my kid. Besides, I need material so I can embarrass her in front of her prom date.
Essentially, about four seconds after she refuses my offer to take her to the bathroom, her entire face goes green and she says, “I need to go potty.” I tell myself not to panic, push my cart out of the way and grab her. She says, “I already went a little bit.” I tell her it’s no big deal and we search for the bathroom. Naturally, the bathrooms are located exactly behind where we were except, in my panic, I didn’t think to look behind me. So, I made my kid walk an entire lap around the store with a load of shit in her pants. And, that was just how she was walking-as if she had a load of shit in her pants. Her legs were about three feet apart.
We make it to the restroom. At this point, I deduce it’s more than a little bit. It’s a mass. Luckily she is wearing a skirt and leggings. After she informs me she doesn’t need to go on the potty, as she is done, I decide to try and clean her up. Because even if we can’t finish shopping, there is no way I am putting her in my brand new car with that going on. No way. I decide the best method is to remove her shoes and throw away the leggings and her underwear. You are welcome Trader Joes for that gift. There was a moment of sheer insanity where I actually considered putting these items in my purse. You know, just tossing them in. I’m very glad I reconsidered, as is the cashier. I use about a half a roll of the paper towel in the bathroom (not very green of me) to wipe her down. Next I use the Sani Hands I keep in my purse (no plastic bag for storing shitty underwear, however) to wipe her off. I suspect, by her shrieks, this may have burned a bit. I was desperate! I was trying to remain calm because, in the words of hamburger eating David Hasselhoff, “This thing is a mess.” Funny, my friends made fun of me at the casino because of the Sani Hands. Had they been present at TJ’s they would have had a much better appreciation for my thoughtfulness.
I deduct she is clean enough. I tell her we are not going to discuss this with anyone. I have visions of her telling people while we are at the store about our little predicament. We are not going to tell anyone that you are not wearing panties. She agrees. I hope she holds up her end of the deal. We finish shopping. I want my effing organic banana yogurt. That stuff is like crack. I am going to need crack after this experience. I drove here, I had a traumatic experience, I survived and I want my goods. We find one of our carts. The other one seems to have disappeared since we were in the bathroom for well over 20 minutes. I’m fine with that. I retrace my steps, hopefully grabbing whatever I had in the cart before and moving as quickly as I can. My child needs a bath and I am praying to God this does not happen again because there is obviously nothing to contain it. I swear to you, people were looking at us funny. I swear they knew. I am sweating profusely and I can’t wait to leave.
Alas, we are in the car. I am driving quickly. Bird is tucked neatly into her seat with her skirt wrapped around her. I can’t have any feces touching my vehicle. I am trying to contain it. I am traumatized. I am frazzled. Feces in public has that effect on me. I am not a calm person. I stop behind bus and a line of cars. The light changes about three times but we never move. Why is the man behind me honking? There is nothing I can do! I am waiting for the traffic in front of me to move! He continues to honk. Oh! Wait! This is actually a line of parked cars! I am a moron! I am frazzled! I roll down the window and yell to the man, “My child shit her pants in the grocery store! I’m spent!” I am kidding. I didn’t actually yell to him. I wanted to. But, in my defense, there was a bus! I thought we were waiting for the bus.
We arrive home. I ask her, as she’s disrobing for the bath, “What happened at Trader Joes?” She informs me, “We can’t talk about it.” Well, at least she kept up her end of the bargain. At least it’s over. That is, until the next day when she does the exact same thing at school and her teacher hands me her underwear wrapped in a plastic bag. I thought it was an art project! Wrong. When I asked her what happened at school she tells me, “I snarkled.” Oh! Is that what the kids are calling it these days?
