My 3 year old is recently potty trained. Too recently perhaps. The traumatic memories are still pretty painful. One memory in particular still brings a tear to my eye and the red hot flush of humiliation to my cheeks. One Saturday, not long after I had given birth to my beautiful daughter, my BFF and her 3 year old invited us for a playdate at a local bookstore. It has a coffee shop and a kids area; the perfect combination. I was all for it. I left the baby with her dad, made sure my son had had one last trip to the potty, and headed out. I should mention that I completely forgot the emergency bag with wipes, Pull Ups, change of clothes, and extra undies. I should also mention that my son was not totally comfortable with the concept of public toilets. I'd like to say that it was because of the idea of putting his hands where someone else's ass had so recently been sitting grossed him out a little (like it does me) but it had more to do with how loud public toilets tend to be when they flush.
Soon after our arrival, my son let me know that he had to go potty. Usually, I was able to get him through a public toilet experience with some encouragement and hand holding but not today. Today he was adamant he was not going to use the public toilet. I explained to him that if he didn't go potty, we'd have to go home. He finally conceded and very quickly, hopped on, dripped a little pee, and hopped off begging me not to flush it. I sent him to stand by the sinks while I flushed, we washed hands, and headed back to the train table. As he and his friend were playing and me and my friend were talking, I saw a familiar look on his face. You know the one, we've all seen it. Perhaps it starts with a look of intense concentration followed by a red nose, or a slight squat and a determined glare.Whatever it looks like, any one who's ever parented a child knows it. It's the poop face. "NNOOOO!!!" I yelled as I reached for his hand to lead him to the potty. We very nearly made it but he did get a little on his undies. No big deal, I thought. He insisted that he did not need to sit on the toilet. Because of the new baby, I hadn't had a normal adult conversation with another woman in quite a few weeks and was desperate for the company so I very stupidly chose to trust my public potty paranoid son, tossed the dirty undies, cleaned him up, and headed back out once again this time with a toddler sans underpants.
Pretty soon the boys were playing again, I was starting to feel like a little of the newborn isolation haze was lifting, and things were looking up. Then once again, that face. This time it was accompanied with a little grunt. "NNOOOO!!!" I yelled again as I reached for his hand but this time it was too late. What was done, was done. And it was done sans underpants. More specifically, it was done in a just a loose pair of khaki shorts sans underpants. I told my friend to text me later and hustled out of there as fast his little legs would move. As we were nearing the exit to the children's section, I thought I saw a brown lump sneak out from his shorts. Can't be, I thought, my mind is playing tricks on me. I felt a rush of blood in my cheeks and tears began to well up in my eyes. Can't be, can't be, can't be, I thought as we continued to rush to the car. In the car, I of course proceeded to have a full on meltdown. Hormonal, exhausted, frustrated, I could see the concerned look on my son's face as we drove home but he didn't say a single word.
Once we got there, I passed him off to my very confused husband and explained what had happened through tears as I watched my husband stifle his laughter for my sake, I heard the text message alert on my phone. No, I thought, it's her. She's going to either confirm or deny what I may or may not have seen as we left the store. Can't be, can't be, can't be.
Oh but it could be. And it was. Not only had I in fact seen what I thought I had seen, someone had stepped in it and some poor store employee was left to clean it up. A part of me wanted to call the store and apologize; to send flowers to the poor store employee, to let them know that had I not had an underpantsless toddler and no back up clothes, I would have been happy to, ok not happy to, but I would have cleaned up the mess myself. The other part of me wanted to start looking at houses on the east coast and move immediately. I didn't call the store and I didn't move and eventually my son got over his fear of public toilets. I did however, avoid that store for many many months and I still consider placing a bag over my head any time I find that I have to go in there.
