A Lesson from Fashion

NOTE BEFORE READING:  This post is about poop.  In some places, another word for poop might be used, because honestly, sometimes poop evokes a stronger word than "poop". Okay, on to the post.

It was all for the love of one dress.

I have been searching for a good deal on this specific dress from Carter's since I saw it several months ago. Since I've been spoiled by shopping at Old Navy with an employee discount for so long, I couldn't imagine spending $42 (!) on it, so I have been waiting and waiting for a good deal.  I even saw the dress at Macy's once, but as further evidence of my spoilage, I didn't have a coupon, so I wasn't going to buy it, even though it was 40% off.

I get emails from Carter's, and I saw they were having their end-of-season up to 70% off sale, PLUS I had a 20% off coupon. So, after Avonlea's physical therapy appointment, I decided I would head over, coupon in hand.

Carter's is in the same shopping center as her PT, so I walked. It was another gorgeous day here in SoCal, and Avonlea could use the Vitamin D. I decided not to take her diaper bag, because we were only going to be in the store a few minutes, while I looked for the dress.  It's just too heavy to carry both her in the Bjorn, and the diaper bag full of stuff.

BIG Mistake. Huge.

We get to Carter's, and as usual I start drooling. I absolutely love Carter's clothes. They're a great fit for my long baby, and even though she has big legs, she doesn't really have a big belly at all--so the slimmer fit of Carter's onesies are perfect for her.  I went in search of the dress....and couldn't find it!  There were big selections of all the other dresses in this style, but none of the horse dress!

(If I had wanted any of these dresses, I would have been set!)

Right about this time, I started to notice my sweet little Avonlea was letting some nice, stinky ones rip.  This isn't unusual lately. She has hearty man gas. Sometimes, I think it is the dogs, but no, it is my sweet little girl letting out gas that can clear a room.

This gas was so stinky that I kept checking to make sure she didn't poop.  Two or three times, I checked.  Nothing.

Finally, I was in the clearance section, and there it was! The dress!!  I was leaning over to find one in the next size up, and it happened: Avonlea let one go.  It wasn't just that she pooped. She let it go so loud that I looked around and found a lady smirking at me.  I wanted to say, "No! It wasn't me!" but really, what would be the point?  And what would I look like blaming that loud noise on my little baby?

Since I had found the dress--in her size!--I knew it was time to head out. I figured I had a limited amount of time before she started getting really uncomfortable, and I didn't want to risk any leakage. She has had some "up the back" poops recently, and I hate cleaning her up in the car.

I headed to the checkout, and the smell was getting worse and worse. I was actually embarrassed at the checkout.  The cashier helpfully let me know that they had a restroom and a changing station if I needed it (you know it's bad when they offer this information without asking), but since I had left the diaper bag in the car, it wouldn't be necessary, since I couldn't change her anyway.

I quickly exited the store, and chugged my (now very stinky) baby back to the car. To keep her from getting cranky, I play with her toes on the way back, making her giggle and squirm.

BIG mistake. Huge.

When we're about 10 feet away, I start to feel something on my left leg. Horrified, I look down, and I see a yellow rivulet of creamy poop running down my leg. Not only that, but there's a matching rivulet running down my right leg, too. Rivulets of shit (surely there's a song waiting to be written there).

Not only is this loveliness now on both of my legs, I notice they are all the way down Avonlea's legs, too--so when I was cute-sily playing with her toes, I was getting it all over my hands, too.

Have you ever tried to get your car keys out of the diaper bag with poop all over your hands?

Somehow I manage to get the trunk of our station wagon open without crapping all over my keys (thank God for the automatic lift gate). I carefully maneuver her changing pad into the back of the car, trying not to wiggle the baby around too much, as more and more of the yellow offensiveness keeps smooshing out of her diaper and onto her legs, her socks, the Bjorn, my legs, and my shirt.

The ONLY positive to this story is that I had an empty plastic bag (thankful to have bought the dress from Carter's) and a spare diaper in the diaper bag.  I had to strip Avonlea (carefully) down, remove her diaper, use an entire bag of wipes on her poopy butt, try to get the shit-laden Bjorn off of me without soiling my own shirt any further, stuff it in the bag, and then use the wipes on my own shirt and legs, too (miraculously it missed my shorts entirely).  All while trying not to vomit from the disgustingness.

I felt like some freakish circus performer.

The final straw for this glorious occasion was reaching into her diaper bag to get her change of clothes, only to realize I had just taken it out because it was too small, and hadn't replaced it yet. So, my sweet, stinky girl rode home from Carter's in naught but her skivvies.  I'm sure it won't be the first time.

Avonlea hasn't worn the dress yet--I bought it in a bigger size so she will wear it in a couple of months--but I really hope that the whole experience doesn't sour my feelings about the dress.  I will be really sad.