So even when I was a child I understood babies do poos. My dollies all had nappies and although they had to be pretty special ones to actually do poos, more than just a tiny tears, I understood the concept. What I don’t understand is how Oliver can do poos that not only go right up his back but also down his legs – how does such a small person possibly contain so much waste material – it must be biologically challenging.
So far Ollie hasn’t done too many of these horrendous exploding poos ……at home. No, he has done them all in the most inappropriate places – do you think he knows?
The first happened when he was just a few weeks old and I was brave enough to travel hundreds of miles to a wedding where Matt was an usher – meaning I didn’t know many people. On the way from the church to the reception a strange aroma started wafting from Ollie’s car seat so as soon as we got to the beautiful venue I took him straight to the toilet to change him – however, not before someone pointed out the brown sludge emerging from the bottom of his lovely ‘White Company’ linen shorts. I knew I had a challenge on my hands but little did I imagine just how much patience I was about to need. Obviously there were no baby changing facilities, of course there weren’t, this was a lovely wedding reception venue in the Cotswold countryside, not John Lewis in Brent Cross and I seemed to be the only person stupid enough to take a, now covered in poo, few week old baby – so I headed to the mens toilets – the womens were all taken and this was an emergency.
Changing matt on floor the shorts came away, the waist coat came off but that was it, the rest of his clothes were glued to his skin by the brown stinky poo. Stinky poo was now covering the changing matt, my hands, the floor and the rest of Ollie’s little flaling limbs as I tried to get his little shirt babygrow slide down his shoulders (thats when i found out what the little folds at the shoulders are for). The screams coming from the mens toilets were now so loud even the bride was wondering what on earth was going on – and she was the other side of a field. Finally I managed to remove the nappy and clean the poo. The toilet was reminiscent of the opening scene in Trainspotting. Wetwipes were literally everywhere, I had poo on my dress, in my hair and even on my spanks tights and the flood of tears (both mine and Ollie’s) had done nothing for the mascara trying to stay on my face. Needless to say we bolted home as fast as we could.
On another occasion we were at a friends absolutely beautiful home, we are talking fired earth painted walls, Aga in the kitchen and a lot of expensive furniture on beautiful parquet wooden floors, anyway she has an immaculately dressed, beautiful and very well behaved little girl. I got through the door bedraggled from the rain, leaving my change bag in the car and ended up having a quick cuppa – that was when i noticed the smell, yes he had done it again. As I lowered Ollie onto the borrowed white change mat dread filled me, we are about to make a horrendous mess – and I was right, poo everywhere – but just when we were borrowing a new babygrow and I had managed to clear up most of the sticky, stinky brown stuff my darling son did a massive weee up the wall. We haven’t been invited back.