Reading Tip: For an authentic chatting-over-coffee experience while reading this post, be sure to imagine me giggling every time I say “Butt Paste”.
When BlogHer asked if I’d be interested in trying Boudreaux’s Butt Paste, they wanted to know if I had a cute and funny diaper disaster story to share. I almost laughed out loud at the question – of COURSE I have diaper disaster stories. I have two kids! There was the time I was trying to be super cool and wore my baby into a tattoo shop to make an appointment and he promptly poopsploded right through the sling. Or I could tell you what happens when you have two kids in diapers and you accidentally mix up the sizes in your middle-of-the-night diaper changing fog. It’s not pretty.

But then The Incident happened. I will refrain from using names so as to make this story less Googleable in the future, although after what she did that’s being EXTREMELY generous. Let’s just call her Shmaroline.

Shmaroline has recently moved to a big-girl bed, which makes her feel very grown up and important. She loves her big-girl bed, especially because it means when she wakes up in the morning she can get out of bed and play with her dolls and blankies and other toys on the floor. Unfortunately, the transition to the big-girl bed came at exactly the same time as her interest in using the potty. And along with the interest in using the potty came a desire to NOT wear a diaper.

If you’re a parent, you can probably already see where this is going. Feel free to skip ahead, unless your child has been terrible today and you need to be reminded “Hey at least I didn’t have to scrub poop out of the carpet today!” Because yes. That is exactly what happened. My adorable baby girl woke up, silently removed her jammies and diaper, and crapped right on the floor. Which is terrible! Horrible! Totally disgusting! Definitely a Diaper Disaster!

And then she decided to stomp in it. (I’m sorry. So so sorry.) I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth when I heard her making her normal, happy, morning baby noises so I sent Evan in to let her out of the room. He took one look at her, slammed the door and ran back to the bathroom yelling “Mommy! Big mess Mommy! Shmaroline pooped!” Luckily, they both think a morning bath is a special treat – and I had a bottle of carpet cleaner waiting on top of Shmaroline’s bookcase. Wait, that actually wasn’t very cute. But it was definitely a disaster!

Mmmmm butt paste

Luckily, one of the things that ISN’T a disaster right now is Caroline’s diaper rash (Shocking news: Shmaroline was actually Caroline all along!). Despite lots of long car trips and super hot summer days, her bottom is as soft as a, uh, baby’s bottom. I got my tube of Boudreax’s Butt Paste right after we returned from Virginia and it worked wonders on the redness from 7 hours in the car seat. Since then I’ve been putting just a tiny dab on every night after bath and we’ve had zero issues. I’ve found it to be easier to put on and wipe off than other diaper creams I’ve tried and it doesn’t have that super-distinctive diaper cream smell I associate with most zinc oxide products. It even worked on the dreaded “Look Mom, I just ate an ENTIRE pint of blueberries on top of those strawberries I had for breakfast – now can I have some grapes?” rash. Boudreax’s was created by a pharmacist in 1978 and is recommended by pediatricians.

Got a diaper rash story? Leave a comment below and you will be entered into a sweepstakes to win a $100 gift card!

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Here are some ways in which I am extremely uncool:

– I really like the song “Boyfriend” by Justin Bieber. I told people on Twitter I thought it was a Justin Timberlake song and most of them agreed which means I’m not crazy, just lame. Oddly, fifteen years ago I would have been EVEN MORE embarrassed to admit I liked Justin Timberlake than I am to admit I like this song now. I think I am just a lot harder to shame now that I’m a mom and have to do stuff like collect poop samples from my kid.

– I’ve been collecting poop samples from my kid. I have no idea where I should keep them until I turn them in to the doctor.

– I bought the One Direction album on iTunes and listened to it yesterday at the dentist. I lied to the him when he asked what I was listening to and said “NPR”. I sing along – LOUDLY – to that “What makes you beautiful” song anytime it comes on in the car.

– I like Smash even more than I like Glee. I don’t care one tiny bit how improbable and ridiculous any of it is – although I am really, really, enjoying my friend Sara’s snarky recaps on Television Without Pity.

– I am half way through the 3rd book in the 50 Shades of Grey trilogy. I would NOT like to talk about them.

– I have already started planning my outfits for BlogHer in NYC in August. I will try really really hard NOT to mention anything about it again until at least July. Except that I am rooming with these swell gals and I’m super excited.

– Because I am a terrible, neglectful mother Evan hasn’t been to the dentist yet. My office doesn’t see kids until 3 so I was waiting, but they’re a “family” dentist not a pediatric dentist and I’m not sure they’re prepared for what I am sure is going to be a very very angry toddler. Our insurance switched providers on May 1st and I checked with the local pediatric office and they accept it so I scheduled back to back appointments this morning. I cried after I made them because I am SO worried about how it will go/if they have cavities. I am probably crying at the appointments right now.

– This afternoon I am getting laser hair removal. I bought my treatments with a Groupon.

Ok, your turn. I’m going to need a laugh after both kinds of appointments today.

Scene: Pouring rain. In the van on the entrance ramp to the highway. Two kids in their car seats. You’re  just barely on time for Stroller Strides because you had to pack four zillion snacks, sippy cups, toys, water bottles, crayons and blankets.

Suddenly, you hear a voice from the back seat.

“Mommy, poop potty! Big poop Mommy!”

WHAT WOULD YOU DO?

Option A: Turn around and go home. You’ll have to drive down to the next exit, get back ON the highway, get back OFF the highway, drive back past the hospital during the busiest part of the morning, drag both kids out of the car into the house in the rain.

Cons: Getting wet, hauling kids, being late
Pros: You probably won’t have to scrape poop of the toddler

Option B: Stop at the gas station a few exits down the highway. The bathroom will be of questionable cleanliness and you’ll have to balance a baby on your hip while removing the toddlers shoes, pants and underwear because he refuses to sit on the potty unless entirely bottomless. Then you have to do it all in reverse to go back out in the rain and reload them into the car.

Cons: Getting wet, hauling kids, being late, catching horrible disease from disgusting public restroom
Pros: You probably won’t have to scrape poop off the toddler (but not guaranteed)

Option C: Ask him to hold it. Beg him to hold it. Shout “NO POOPING IN THE CAR!” Sing a made-up-song about how we only poop in the potty. Say “Did you poop? Did you poop? Did you poop?” every 12 seconds the whole way to the mall. UNFORTUNATE TWIST: You forgot to pack extra underpants (or any kind of pants).

Cons: Possible poop scraping, being so tired of the word poop your brain explodes
Pros: On time to class, no extra kid hauling, taking the risk gets your heart racing which practically counts as a bonus morning workout

So, yeah, I thought my life was supposed to get EASIER after potty training. Everyone is always complaining about diapers but let me tell you, THIS IS NOT BETTER. I spend at least two hours a day staring at my kid while he sits on the can, helping him with his pants, wiping his butt or bribing begging him to use the potty BEFORE we leave the house. My Weight Watchers activity tracker should have an option for “potty trained toddler” because if I’m going to be running back and forth to the restroom every single time we go out in public I want to be able to EAT those activity points. Or more accurately, drink those points. Mommy needs a hot cocoa with peppermint schnapps.

For the record, my choice in the earlier scenario was C because I happen to know my kid is a LYING LIARFACE and uses “Poop potty!” as an excuse to get out of the car/stroller when he’s bored. There was no poop scraping. He not only held it until we got to the mall, he told me he didn’t even have to go anymore. No accidents.

So to sum up: I am sick of the word poop and my toddler is incredibly manipulative.

1. Wiping the baby’s poop off the baby.

2. Wiping the baby’s poop off myself.

3. Wiping the baby’s poop off the dog after he eats the diaper I left on the carpet while I rush the toddler to the potty.

4. Wiping the toddler after he doesn’t quite make it to the potty because I was yelling at the dog.

5. Scrubbing the hot dog juice off the baby’s head after she dumps her brother’s plate on herself.

6. Scrubbing ketchup out of everything in the family room.

7. Wiping down the high chair so next time I can feed the toddler out of reach of the baby.

8. Washing faces before nap time so I don’t have to wash all the pillows AFTER nap time.

9. Picking up whatever that thing was the dog just threw up on the floor.

10. Giving myself a hooker bath because I haven’t taken a real shower in three days and right now I am choosing to nap instead.

Today, I am thankful for baby wipes.

Some people wonder if there is a God.

I wonder why in the name of God it takes men so long to crap.

When does this phenomenon start, exactly? I know for a fact my toddler can squeeze one out in the 15 seconds between “Mama! Potty!” and dragging him into the bathroom. BAM. Instant poop. And yet wives everywhere are standing by the door for 20 minutes, holding their purse and sighing because just as they were headed out their husband said “Oh, I want to use the bathroom before we go.”

I will admit that since becoming a mom I do my fair share of hiding in the bathroom with a magazine or my iPhone just for the PEACE AND QUITE that comes from a closed door and a ventilation fan. But 90% of the time I’m doing it with my pants on. I’ve been pregnant for 18 of the last 34 months. The hemorrhoid situation is bad enough on it’s own without an hour sitting on the toilet. AREN’T YOU GLAD I SHARED THAT? I’ve also mastered the art of getting my business done in the 20 seconds between “uh oh the baby is waking up and needs to nurse but I have GOT to GO” and “screaming starving angry baby that will take no less than 90 minutes to get back to sleep”. If there was a speed pooping event at the Olympics, I’d win a gold medal.

But men? Men are the three-toed-sloth of going number 2. They spend so long crapping moss might grow on them. Is it a biological thing? Did I miss a day in health class that explained that humans with Y chromosomes need extra time in their schedule for bowel movements? It might have been the same day they explained why Mortal Kombat is awesome or the appeal of backwards baseball caps.

My theory is that crapping themselves is every guy’s BIGGEST FEAR and so as soon as they get the tiniest inkling of an idea that maybe they might have to poop sometime soon they run for the bathroom.

And women everywhere who have pooped on the delivery table scoff at them.

It’s mildly annoying at home – “Sorry I left you with two screaming children while you were in the middle of making dinner! Nature called! And we had a really really long chat! Is it time to eat?” – but it’s completely awful in public. The 20 square feet around the entrance to a rest stop bathroom isn’t exactly the most child-friendly place on Earth and there’s a limited amount of time a toddler is entertained by a water fountain before you are both soaking wet and crying.

And that fulfills my poop-talk quota for the month. Why no, potty training is NOT going super-well. What makes you ask?