What Not To Do With Number Two

I've been mulling this post over since Saturday, and I've finally decided to put my pride aside and share it...

Now this story cannot be told without sharing all the dirty details, and I assure you, there will be A LOT of dirty details. Be forewarned. Let me set the scene for you...

It was a typical day in our house on Saturday. We woke up to Olivia's morning "get me the hell out of this crib" scream, turned on our usual cartoons, and got ready for the day.

This particular Saturday was a little different though because we had Olivia's cousin, Savannah's, second birthday party. We were so excited to party it up, Olivia loves Savannah so much!

I was rushing around the house, trying to get myself, Olivia, and my husband ready to go, along with making sure I didn't forget the gifts and the desserts I had made for the party. I poured Olivia a glass of apple juice with her breakfast and thought nothing of it. Olivia has had apple juice many times in the past, so it wasn't anything out of the norm. As I ran around the house, I thoughtlessly poured Olivia a second glass, right before we left the house to head to the party...

That, my friends, was my fatal mistake...

During the drive to the party, Olivia was a little fussier than usual. It wasn't major, but just different than she usually is in the car. I thought nothing of it until after the fact.

We got to Savannah's house and I helped my sister-in-law set up a few things. During this time, my husband ran to the store to get some extra chips, and Olivia was playing with Savannah. Freaking figures my husband would be gone and unavailable when all hell broke loose...

I walked over to check on Olivia and noticed she had something on the back of her shirt. She was wearing a BRAND NEW WHITE unicorn shirt to match the theme of the party. It looked like a grease stain at first, like a tan color. I got closer to check it out and as I pulled her shirt up to look I could see the same colored substance up her back.

I swear my heart sank a little.

I shivered in fear.

I had a horrible feeling about what was to come.

I quietly picked Olivia up and grabbed a diaper and wipes. I ran upstairs to Savannah's bedroom to privately change her. As soon as I laid Olivia down, it was like a nuclear bomb went off.

Olivia started hysterically screaming and flailing all over the place, while I desperately tried to contain the obscene amount of diarrhea in her diaper.

Poop. Was. Everywhere.

Even thinking about it now gives me the most intense anxiety.

I tried my damnedest to stop Olivia from screaming and moving, but it was useless. There was so much number 2... it was just everywhere. All over the diaper, on her clothes, on her, on me, on the floor...

Total shit show, no pun intended.

I just remember wiping and wiping and wiping. I literally could not clean the poop off of her fast enough. Olivia was screaming in discomfort and I was screaming because she was screaming... ugh.. it was so stressful.

After about 10 minutes and a full package of wipes, I finally contained the situation.

My husband and sister-in-law walked into the room and I just lost my shit. I couldn't even verbalize what had just happened. I started crying and all I could do was breathe.

I have never experienced that before. That feeling of having zero control. Being at the mercy of my one year old, and it wasn't even her fault. I'm the one who gave her enough apple juice to give her a freaking juice cleanse.

I felt so much guilt for yelling at Olivia during the whole fiasco, but I just lost control. I was so upset at myself for not being able to maintain my composure. I was even more embarrassed that I cried afterwards. It was just all bad.

I feel like I'm scarred for life...Okay, well maybe not that dramatic, but still.

What Not to do With Number Two

1. DO NOT PANIC (even though it's hard)

2. Remember all clothing and surfaces can/will be cleaned

3. DO NOT GIVE YOUR CHILD MORE THAN ONE GLASS OF JUICE UNLESS YOU KNOW THEY CAN STOMACH IT

4. Shit happens, literally

5. It's okay to cry over spilled poop

Can someone please tell me I'm not alone?