Football and The Hand of Poo

I'm sure everyone has a potty training horror story to tell, I've heard some of my friends tales and yes I'm no different so this is the one that left me pleading with the universe to swallow me up and spit me out a long way from any wee, poo or a potty!

On Wednesday evenings, Callum has football training at the local leisure centre. It has always been a rush to get him there on time after I've finished work.

Having collected Callum from after school club, I picked Millie up from nursery and was disappointed that she'd had a particular bad day for accidents and had gone through all her spare clothes but I had one spare pare of knickers in the car and the potty. No time to go home and get spares tonight. I've sometimes borrowed stuff from the nursery but didn't think to on this fateful day!

I then headed to the leisure centre and once again arrived late for the start of his football practice.

Once I've dropped Callum off I take Millie to the cafe for some tea as per normal where I sometimes meet my friend (one of the other mums) and her daughter.

Nothing out of the ordinary so far and tea went fine though we left it quite late to head back to collect our boys. As I picked up Millie I could feel she was wet. I sighed but had no time to sort it now. I decided I'd change her into the spare knickers back at the car and could then put her straight in the car with something over her legs to keep her warm. It wouldn't matter she had no bottoms as she'd only be in the car.

Halfway across the short walk to the all-weather pitches Millie cries 'poo'. No, not now. There's no way I can take her to the toilet and still collect Callum in time. Looking back, why I didn't ask my friend to just let the coach know I was on my way but needed to take Millie to the toilet, I've no idea. Anyway, I pleaded with Millie to hold on while I went to collect Callum.

I had to pay the coach some fees and Stuart chose just that moment to call me about stuff while Millie was making funny faces - not the type to make you laugh the type that says the poo is coming.

I got rid of Stuart, paid as quick as I could and whisked the kids back to the car. I asked Millie if she still needed a poo and she nodded so I grabbed the potty from the boot, yanked down her leggings and knickers in one go and pretty much shoved her on the potty. Being a winter evening it was dark and there was a bush sheilding her from the football pitches and half the car park and I didnt think the queue of traffic waiting to leave the car park our side of the Bush would be paying much attention. And then I realised as I felt the squelch between my fingers, it was too late, she had already done it in her knickers.

In the action of pulling her knickers down I had spread it down her legs, it was over her damp leggings and all over the potty, not forgetting my hand. I had no wet wipes as I had come straight from work. I had no tissues. There was poo everywhere. I couldn't run her to the toilets because she was naked from the waist down, covered in poo, as was I. I couldn't leave her outside the car while I ran to get tissue from the leisure centre which was about 150 meters away. I didnt trust Callum to go on his own and get a useful supply of wet and dry tissue. I tried to clean my hand on the mud and leaves and then called my friend hoping she was still somewhere in the car park but there was no answer.

I hunted in the car for anything I could use and found a tiny scrap of very used snot tissue. I tried to use it to clean her legs but by now the poo had started to dry. I tried her wet clothes from the nursery but it wasn't much use. It was pitch black and I couldn't see what I was doing so I tried to use the torch on my phone while I attempted to clean her but I needed more than one hand to clean but couldn't put the phone down anywhere that would effectively illuminate Millie enough, it isn't the brightest of torches.

It was about this point when I started pleading to the sky saying "why? Why? Why do these things happen to me? What am I supposed to do?" The drivers in the queue of cars trying to get out of the carpark, if they noticed, pretending not to and noone offered to help and no miracle cleaning solution presented itself, I needed to work this out myself. Yelling at the sky wasn't going to solve this.

I piled her poo covered clothes into a Bag For Life and found a medium sized plastic carrier bag from a clothes shop and placed it on Millie's car seat. The potty also went in the Bag for Life. I carefully picked Millie up and placed her on the bag but it was little protection to the seat as I needed to plug her seat belt in. I wrapped her coat around her legs, told Callum he was not to move or make a noise. I shut them in the car and ran to the leisure centre toilets.

I washed my hands, then washed them again. Then washed them a third time. I picked up a handful of tissue but knew it was pointless as only a shower was going to clean her now!

When I got back to the car I then noticed some poo on the car park floor but there was nothing I could do about that now, I had to leave it.

When I got home, I rushed her straight up to the bathroom and put the car seat cover in the washing machine along with any of the clothes I could salvage. The rest went in the bin along with the Bag for Life.

Only the children's bedtime was now standing between me and a large glass of wine or 3! Sod the no midweek drinking rule!

It's just a phase it's just a phase it's just a phase...