This is a story about poop. It's actually a bunch of stories about lots of particularly heinous poops, so if poop grosses you out just move on. If you think to yourself, "Dude, I'm a mom. I've seen some sh*t literally," keep reading, because you will chuckle in knowing sympathy. Don't get it twisted, you're still probably going to be a little grossed out, because even among moms these are some of the worst diaper blow-outs I've come across. That said, these are also some of the funniest diaper blow-out stories I've ever heard, because poop is funny. It's a law of nature. The world is round, the sun rises in the east, global warming is real, and poop is funny.
I almost feel as though poop being funny is an evolutionary trait that developed to help parents deal with parenthood. Here's the breakdown of what having a child is for the first few years: 30 percent feeding your baby, 15 percent trying to get your baby to sleep, 15 percent entertaining your baby, and the remaining 40 percent is dealing with poop. Remember the Bog of Eternal Stench from Labyrinth? That's basically where you live until about a year after your child is fully potty trained. Bowel movements take up a lot of your physical and mental energy. Pair that with sleep deprivation and, without a sense of humor, you'd go hopelessly mad before your infant cuts their first tooth.
So, yeah, parents lives are, necessarily, pretty poop-centric. At the very least parents lives are more concerned with poop than the life of a typical non-parent, and sometimes we need an outlet to talk about this socially taboo subject. (Incidentally, most of the people I spoke to wished to remain anonymous. It's almost though people don't want their names associated with baby poop stories. I can't imagine why.)
"When my daughter was just shy of 1 year old, I decided it would be swell if I brought her by myself to a tent sale. The line was very long to get in and we ended up waiting about an hour. The moment we started to go in I felt a rumble on my stomach (I had her facing out). This rumble was immediately followed by a warm wet sensation seeping through my shirt.
Now mind you in this tent sale there are no restrooms, no place to lay her down and change her, nor did I have any supplies on me as they don't allow large bags inside the tent. The warmth that I had originally felt quickly turned to cold grossness and then the smell started to waft up towards me. I quickly darted towards the exit as I could feel the blowout starting to ooze out down her legs and out of the carrier. I made it back to the car and changed her into a new outfit and drove home in my bra and underwear as my shirt and shorts was covered in sh*t. I prayed the entire 30 minutes home that I wouldn't get pulled over and have to explain this!"
"One night my daughter kept crying and crying and crying but whenever I went to her, there was nothing wrong as far as I could tell. She wasn't hungry or wet, but she wanted up. Finally, her dad said, 'Just let her cry. See if she goes back to sleep.' And she did. She slept the whole rest of the night. When I went in to get her the next morning, her shiny, smiling little self was covered in poop from head to toe, as well as [a sizable] part of her crib, because she'd smeared it there like the little monkey she was."
"When my son was about 9 months old I took him on a ride (about 20 minutes) to visit my grandmother who lived in assisted living. Somewhere along the way he had a major blowout. [It was] all the way up to his neck and all over his car seat. When we got to my grandmother's parking lot, I laid him in the backseat of my car on a blanket to try to clean him up and he was tossing and turning and thrashing, just spreading poop everywhere. I was a frazzled mess. The entire time my grandmother was over my shoulder, hovering, so excited to see the baby she wouldn't back off for five seconds. Haha! It was a disaster."
"When my daughter was about 4 months old she had to come to a business brunch with me (it wasn't super formal, but still a business meeting). She was sitting in her car seat on the table and the client I was meeting with started to wrinkle up his face. Then I smelled why. I look over and there was poop coming out of the bottom of the car seat. I quickly excused us and carried the car seat into the bathroom (which was about two feet away from our table). It was then that I realized I did not have wipes and I did not have a change of clothes (luckily I did have an extra diaper).
For the next 20 minutes, while [my daughter] screamed at the top of her lungs, I used wet paper towels to try and clean her up — her outfit went into the trash it was so bad. For 20 minutes no one knocked on the door of the restroom (there was only one in this crowded restaurant). When I got back to the table with a baby clad only in a diaper in a car seat that had no lining, my client was in stitches. He said that he kept watching women go up to the bathroom and start to try the handle, look horrified when they heard the screaming, and run back to their tables. Now, even if I don't have my baby with me, I have wipes and a change of clothes in my pocket book. NEVER. AGAIN."
"My daughter was struggling with constipation. When she finally went, during a diaper change, it happened in two stages. First a huge and compacted log came out. That freed up all the runny poop that had been just waiting for freedom for a week. It shot out of her and got all over her legs, the new diaper, the changing table, the carpet, and our poor cat that was standing next to the changing table. We had a lot of up-the-back incidents, but nothing topped the poop cork incident."
"The worst diaper blowout my daughter had wasn't so much about the diaper, but where we were. I was alone with three kids (6 months, 3, and 8). We stopped at a gas station to fill up and use the restroom. Once we got inside, I went to change the baby, and breastfed baby poop was all up her back. Of course, I only had a diaper and wipes, and nothing else. I almost started to cry. It was 20 degrees outside, so I had to just put her back in the outfit. I went back outside to try to find clothes, and just changed her in the backseat."
"My 3 year old has been dealing with major constipation issues. One afternoon I was folding laundry downstairs while she played upstairs. She called, 'Mommy?' but I ignored her because I was almost finished with the basket, and she didn't call me again. A few minutes later I carried the basket up the stairs. She walked up and said, 'Here Mommy, I cleaned these for you,' and handed me a soaking wet pair of underpants. Then she said, 'But I need some help with my hands.' I looked and her butt and legs were completely smeared with sh*t, as were her hands. But, you know, at least the undies were clean."
"I had taken my boys to [a frozen yogurt place] to meet my sister-in-law and nephews. She's very much about the holding the baby since her kids are grown. She was holding him and I could smell the poop (because you know the smell of your kid's poop) but she was too polite to say anything. So I took him to the bathroom to change him and there was no changing table (what?!) so I went to this sofa thing, vinyl and slippery, in the hallway near the bathrooms. I did not have a changing pad, so I laid him on my scarf, and unwrapped and there was a poop up his back, out the sides, on his pants, everything. I had no change of clothes for him, just a diaper and wipes.
I got him cleaned up using the wipes and the under-onesie and my scarf, threw all that good clothing and accessory in the trash, and there was poop on the vinyl couch, so I wiped that up with the rest of my wipes. Took him in the bathroom, without pants, and had to sit him down on the floor because I had to use two hands to rinse the poop off his pants. Then I dried the pants best I could with the hand dryer. Dressed him and handed him right back to my sister in law and turned back to my froyo. She said, 'I think he wants to sit in his stroller,' in 30 seconds flat."
"We were driving from Minnesota to Wisconsin and had literally just stopped at a rest stop. We got back in the car and within minutes my cousin, who was sitting in the back with the baby, said, 'Um. I think he pooped.' So next exit we get off and stop at a gas station. Since I had just changed him, I grabbed a diaper and the wipes out of the diaper bag, scooped the baby up, and ran into the gas station. I got into the bathroom and laid him down on the changing table, and he was covered. Neck to toe.
I peeled off his jumper and threw it in the trash, started wiping and realized this was not going to be sufficient. I stuck him in the sink and started panicking about what to do next. I had a diaper, but it was in the teens so taking him back to the car mostly naked wasn't ideal. Luckily, a very nice woman asked if there was anything she could do to help, so I described our car and asked her to go tell my husband that I needed the diaper bag! She walked out and found him standing outside the ladies' room. I took so long he got worried. That story has been dubbed by my cousin 'The time Baby pooped his socks.'"
"When [my daughter] was 3 days old we had just gotten home. She had a huge blowout and we didn't know how to get a dirty onesie off so we cut it off. We changed her and got her all clean (and me since I was holding her during the blowout) [and put] all the dirty things in a bag. Then we come to realize that the dog had gotten into the poop bag and dragged it all over the house."