I was initiated into the most awesome, super duper club ever this week. Motherhood.
A fellow mother and I decided the best way to spend our day was to drive our two small children to a children's museum in Philadelphia. And really, the day was a blast. We didn't lose them in the museum. Neither child burst into tears...wait, I forgot, mine did, over which carousel horse she wanted to ride. Regardless, the day was a success.
My initiation came a little later in the day, on the ride home.
It was nap time. They needed to sleep on the ride home. My friend's child was very compliant, mine...not so much. K did everything she could to keep herself awake. She kicked, she cried, she begged for food and drink. Then...it began.
"Mama! I have to go potty. Bad!"
"K, you went potty before we left the museum. You're fine. Hold it. Go to sleep."
"I can't Mama! I can't hold it!"
"K! ENOUGH! Go to sleep!"
"It's poop, Mama!"
Now, at this point I'm still thinking she's playing me. She pooped at the museum. We just left a half hour ago. There's no way she has to go again.
"It's coming Mama. The poop, it's coming!"
"Hold it please, K. We can't stop here. Look around, do you see any bathrooms? Do you want to poop on the road?"
"MAAMAA! I can't hold it. The poop, it's coming!"
Alright, maybe she's serious. Maybe we should start looking for an exit. I'm still not sure, but I certainly don't want to clean up shit.
"K, please try to hold it. We can't stop now. You have to hold it."
"Mama, noo!! I can't hold it. The poop is coming! I can't stop it! MAMA!!"
Okay, she's serious. She's arching her body trying to get up out of her carseat. We need to get her to a bathroom, fast.
"Okay, K. As soon as we can, we will stop. Hold on, we're looking. We're trying."
"Hurry, Mama! The poop wants to come out, now!"
Finally, an exit. We pull off I95 and head toward the fast food restaurants. But we don't see anything. We're in back country. Houses, trees, tractors...nothing.
"It's coming. NOW! I can't stop it!!"
Executive decision, we're stopping right here. We either stop here in the middle of nothing and let her out or she's shitting in her leggings.
"Okay, K. We're stopping. You will have to poop here. In the grass."
Now, she's crying.
"I'm not a dog, Mama. I can't poop in the grass."
"No. You're not a dog, but you have to go and there are no bathrooms anywhere. You have to."
"I hope no one sees me."
"Oh baby, no one will see you. I'll use the door to block you. You'll be fine. It's okay."
And it was. She pooped fine. Just like a dog.
Back in the car, heading south on 95, K calls to me.
"Mama? Why didn't we use a bag and pick up my poop?"
Wait...didn't she just tell me she wasn't a dog?
So there you have it, my initiation into motherhood. My kid pooped on the side of the road. It sure was swell.