Parenting Poomergency
That one time “baby comes first” went a little too far.
By Kristen Heinzinger
This anecdote is a compilation of the experiences of young parents told through sporadic text messages because they just didn’t have any goddamn time to talk about it.
We’d say we’ve all been there, but this fresh hell is reserved especially for parents of young ones. Picture this: You’re sleep-deprived, haven’t properly showered in a day (or two, you’ve lost count), battling whatever stomach bug is going around, trying to survive another day of parenthood. You’re a little woozy and your stomach hasn’t been right. Then something hits—a familiar wretched stench, more potent than gasoline, more suffocating than a locker room drenched in Axe body spray. It’s a big baby doody.
You do a little walk/run over to the changing table as you hold your sweet, beloved spawn at arm’s length so the leaking poo doesn’t make contact with your clothes, requiring yet another outfit change. You bravely peel open the diaper to see what you’re dealing with, what the frontlines of parenthood have in store for you. Suddenly, the adrenaline mixed with the whatever-is-going-around bug rears its ugly head. Your stomach sinks and your gut rumbles. You clench your butt for dear life, because what else are you going to do, abandon your child to seek the safety of cool porcelain? You have about .7 seconds to decide your next move, choose what kind of parent you really are, but also, what kind of human you’re potentially about to become.
So…you let go. Because that’s all you can do. You just let it go. You knew the day would come, but you really did believe you’d be wheeling around an old folks home, removing your teeth at night and innocently flirting with the nurses by the time it did. But the day is here—you’ve just shit yourself.
You finish the job as tears stream down your face, a mix of laughter and shock, horror and agony, but you did it—your baby is fresh and clean, ready to destroy another diaper whenever their little heart desires. And you know deep down, like every other degrading, dehumanizing experience of parenthood—you’ll laugh about it one day.
Other crappy tales from parenthood
“Today, I got poop deep, deep under my nail.”
“Def have had poop plop on my floor before.”
“I saw that my kid had smeared poop all over her face and body while I was driving. I just wiped her down, changed her clothes and brought her in to daycare.”
“We were eating dinner and my toddler was in our living room—she was too quiet so I walked over and saw she pulled off her poop diaper and was scooping poop onto the floors."