Poonami [poo-nah-mee] – noun – a monumental movement of such quantity and consistency that no nappy stands a chance of containing it.
As a new(ish) parent, I learned the importance of having a spare outfit for BG fairly early on. This weekend, I learned the importance of having my OWN change of clothes in case of ’emergency’.
My Saturday started off beautifully.
BG and I visited a Garden Centre in the Midlands where I worked as a teenager for my pocket money.
Every year, the Christmas display was always something to behold, with Santa’s Grotto being an experience for all involved (once upon a time I was chief Elf and ran said grotto!) – and this year was no exception.
This was the 2nd time BG has met Father Christmas and her face throughout the magical sleigh ride and woodland walk to see Father Christmas melted my heart completely (mind you, the 1st time she met him she as only 10 weeks old and had absolutely no clue what was going on, I’m not even sure she was awake) Father Christmas himself was also excellent – he truly was brilliant with BG and she seemed to love every minute of the experience!
After our grotto visit, BG and I visited the Garden Centre’s restaurant with BG’s Aunty and had a lovely lunch. True to form, BG filled her nappy once she’d finished eating. This has seemingly become her notification that her dinner has ended. I dutifully picked her up and headed off to the one and only Baby Change facility. Unfortunately, the baby change was occupied with what sounded like one very fraught mum and around 5 children. We waited for 15 minutes for this mum to eventually vacate the baby change with her single child! I can only imagine what devastation had happened to warrant a 15 minute visit to the facilities!
Whilst I was waiting for said parent to vacate the facilities, BG let rip again… pulling the all too familiar straining face – alerting me that perhaps the after-dinner evacuation was not complete. Suddenly, a wave of panic flowed over me… Why am I suddenly warm? Why am I suddenly wet? The picture above shows the devastation caused by a poonami on a poonami. Those, ladies and gentlemen, are not food stains!
Once we got into the baby change, it was clear that the vest and tights BG was wearign would need to be sacrificed… I was left completely astounded. How could someone so small create so much poo? So. Much. Poo. The cleanup operation was a fairly lengthy process and I eventually was able to leave the baby-change, somewhat flustered, attempting to hide my poo stained t-shirt from other diners! I hurried back to my sister who was waiting at our table (thankfully we’d already eaten) and then uttered the words “We have to leave. Right now. I am literally covered in actual shit”.
Stifling her obvious amusement (quite well in actual fact), my sister got up from the table and we left in a whirlwind – carefully, yet skillfully quickly negotiating the old ladies mooching around the houseplant section and exit route of the garden centre.
Back at the ranch – we all changed into clean clothes, salvageable clothing was dutifully put into soak with copious amounts of vanish and thankfully were rescued! We then continued our day as if nothing had happened… occasionally sniggering at being covered in poo. Learning the lesson that I should also pack a spare outfit for myself in the baby change bag – and not just one for BG!
You’d think that would be the end of the poonami story – that was traumatic enough… but no! Following a fairly arduous journey back down south on the M1 on Sunday, a new phrase was born in our family… The Motorway Shitstop. Like a pitstop, only significantly less fun
Having dutifully checked the traffic on my Google Maps app before leaving, I was confident that the journey home from the Midlands would be a sedate 2 hours. BG would be able to sleep the whole way home for her afternoon nap and we would be home just in time for tea. All routes were clear! Hurrah, smooth sailing – or so I thought! Due to an accident, the M1 was closed just as we got onto it, delaying us by 30 minutes before our journey had really gotten started! Ordinarily, just a minor irritation when you’re a grown up and travelling solo… a slightly larger problem with a baby shaped time-bomb in the back!
Needing a coffee, I swung into a motorway services and headed for the drive-thru Costa Coffee – grateful that I wouldn’t need to disturb BG by getting her out of the car. This would be a quick pitstop, and an opportunity to taste one of the new festive beverages Costa had to offer. But no. BG had other ideas. Stirring from her slumber just as I was ordering, she let rip again. Poonami number 2! Thankfully, this was a contained event, with no perimeter breaches but it meant that we now had to park up, get out of the car, navigate our way through the service station to find the baby change, change said nappy and then do the whole thing in reverse to get back in the car. And there, the Motorway Shitstop was born.
You kind of prepare for the fact that you are going to have to deal with bodily fluids and other toilet related matter when you become a parent… you don’t ever imagine you will have to utter the words “We need to leave. I am literally covered in actual shit” though.
The moral of this post? Always take at least one spare outfit for baby whenever you leave the house, perhaps even 2… that’s a given, but, add a spare outfit in there for yourself too! And perhaps some body spray too… no one wants to wander around smelling of poo now do they?
Got an equally mortifying poo-story to share? Please, help me to feel like it’s not just me and share! If for no other reason than to enable other mums (and dads) to have a giggle at your expense (admit it, you’re laughing at this story!)!