You Can’t Make This Shit Up

Bella in her “new shirt” (which I suspect will be pawned off on Nanni)

So I was talking to my Mom this morning and trying to figure out when Bella and I would come visit her and my Dad (we see them quite frequently since they moved 10 minutes away). During this call, I thought I caught Bella about to poop and rushed her to go sit on the kiddie potty (fully clothed, we’re just starting this process)). She didn’t stay seated for very long, I finished my call with my Mom and decided that I should run to the grocery store to pick up a few things including something to make for dinner.

So I let the dogs out one last time, gathered up my reusable bags and headed out to the car with Bella. This was going to be a quick trip, so I just brought a small purse and left the “Bella Bag” with diapers, wipes and an emergency binkie at home.

We get to the local food store, I plop Bella in a cart and we start strolling through the aisles. Oddly enough, it’s when we’re in the baby aisle that I notice a distinct smell. Bella is wearing a play suit, but I’m able to get a peek in her diaper and there is definitely poo and it is definitely beginning the migration to the top of her diaper. So I decided we’d go to the restroom, which happened to be nearby, and I’d change her diaper there. But with what?

Well, we’ve been having a trial and error phase on finding a diaper that will keep her dry all night anyway. The Luvs we had been using were a complete failure, even at the next size up. The Pampers I bought worked better, but she still felt a little damp in the morning. So I grabbed a small bag of Huggies overnights and a container of wipes (because it’s not like they won’t get used). We head back to the bathroom and I brace myself for inevitable showdown.

Bella hasn’t been the most cooperative baby on the changing table lately, but the few times I’ve changed her in public have been a disaster. I pull down her play suit top and place her on the changing station where she immediately begins thrashing and crying. As I’m taking her play suit off the rest of the way, I realize it’s completely soaked in the crotch. Awesome. So I get her diaper open, there’s an impressive bowel movement and I use all my might to keep her from kicking her sandals in the feces before I can get it all wiped up. Then I put a new diaper on her and put her back in the cart.

The problem is, I’m not done shopping yet and I would really hate to go home, but my daughter is sitting in a cart in a diaper and sandals. So I head down the freezer aisle where I know they sometimes have shirts for local towns and sports teams. The smallest, most inexpensive one I can find is an adult large that says “Levittown” and has butterflies on it (Side note, Levittown is where my parents moved to 3 years ago). So I take the shirt off the hangar, throw it over her head, fight with her to keep it on and finish up my shopping.

I don’t care how short the trip is, I don’t think I’m ever leaving the “Bella Bag” at home again and I had been thinking about adding a change of clothes to it and that is definitely going to happen now. I need a stiff drink, but I’ll settle for some ice cold water and a little time relaxing before she gets up from her nap.  Jeesh.

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About snarkysillysad
A former marketing professional with 15 years of experience in the technology industry. Through her blog she has shared her journey through pregnancy and motherhood as well as her struggle with migraines, depression, and chronic pain

2 Responses to You Can’t Make This Shit Up

  1. Christina says:

    The shopping trip you had today is my biggest fear. I rarely leave the diaper bag at home. I always have at least an emergency onesie (what am I to do when he outgrows the 24m onesies?), some matchbox cars, at least one book, diapers wipes and a binkie. I hope you’re going to bed early tonight!

    • The emergency bag has diapers and wipes, a binkie, a bag for dirty diapers, hand wipes and a container with a small notebook and three crayons. I will be adding a jumper and making sure i’s always with me.

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