Sh@t!

The boys and I headed up to "Greater DC Area North of us" to visit with Jill, Joey and Jackson.
After a while, the children decided they were hungry - and were driving us crazy inside the house, so we decided to take them to the Golden Arches with a playplace.

Order food, then unleash all their energy on the plastic tubes and nets that make up a McDonald's Playplace. Screaming, running, jumping - whatever. We didn't care. When the other moms gave dirty looks? Still. Didn't. Care.

Jill and I had a good time chatting (seriously Jill, two months is too long) about our worst bathroom experiences - hers was a dirty bathroom in Paris, mine was being accosted by a mentally unstable woman in one.

Aside from the fact that I had changed four poopy diapers that morning things were going well. Right up until the time we started getting ready to leave.

Braxton: "I pooped my pants."
Me: "Oh Shit."

Little did I know how true those words would be. It was EVERYWHERE.
I pulled off his shorts and 'roos, which of course, only made things worse.
I ran out of wipes after about one calf. Because Kieran had had four poopy diapers this morning.
There were no paper towels because they only had that stupid blower thing.
Tried toilet paper. Fail.
My only options were to carry him out to the car (uhh, have I mentioned that it's brand new?) or to stand him in the sink and bath him.
I stood my son in the Playplace restroom at McDonalds and bathed him.

I now have a new worst bathroom experience ever.