All the things I feared before becoming a father seemed to mostly center around poop and other bodily functions.
When I used to babysit my nieces and nephews long before I was a father, I had to MAKE ABSOLUTELY SURE my sister(s) had taken them to the bathroom and/or changed their diapers before she left. There was no way in hell I was going to wipe a butt or change a poopy diaper… that was just disgusting.
I looked forward to the day I would become a father so I could relish in all the fun and rewarding things about being a parent… I just wasn’t sure about “the dirty work”. The fears of how I would handle certain scenarios loomed large in my brain. Certain scenarios such as:
Changing a diaper (yes… that was a fear of mine)
Getting thrown up on (been there)
Getting peed on (done that)
Getting pooped on (that too)
Having your kid poop in the tub (read about it here)
Wiping their booty during potty training (every day at this point)
Handling diarrhea (unfortunately so… I don’t even like writing that word!)
Potty training in public restrooms (you gotta do what you gotta do)
Mere minutes into fatherhood and I was already changing a diaper… and checking that fear off my list
If you’ve been a parent for any length of time… you’ve undoubtedly had your hand (quite literally) in these situations. In a backwards way of thinking, I believe I was ready for them to happen so I could say, “Whew. Okay… I got that out-of-the-way! Now, give me my ‘Fatherhood Valor Award For Those Who’ve Been Pooped On.”
Although… an item I didn’t list above that I was still scared of was what I would do if DLG pooped her pants (not with a diaper on)! I’d been waiting for quite some time to administer the necessary procedures to mend such a scenario.
My fear became a reality at Chick-Fil-A (we go there a lot if you haven’t noticed) DLG had eaten her lunch then had just got done playing in the kid’s area for a little bit when she approached me with a simple request, “Daddy…. I need to go poo poo”.
I sprang into action as I knew the window of opportunity to make sure these turds got flushed was decreasing with each passing second. We carved a path and prayed that the men’s restroom stall wasn’t occupied.
“Hallelujah! There’s no one in here!” I thought to myself as I entered the lone bathroom stall that Chick Fil-A has in the men’s bathroom.
Upon entering the stall, I noticed the warm glow emanating through DLG’s jeans and onto my bare arm.
“Sissy! Did you poop?” I asked her.
She said, “Yes Daddy!” as though it were completely obvious.
The next several minutes were spent trying to figure out how to effectively manipulate everything to where I could change her clothes, get her dirty clothes put away, make sure she’d gotten all “it” out and keep her feet out of the apparent pool of urine directly in front of the toilet (dudes… seriously? C’mon now). Keep in mind she is two-years-old and extremely hard to keep focused.
It was an adventure to say the least.
Poop has no business being in your underpants DLG… let’s keep it in the potty from now on.
“Okay daddy. Okay. I won’t poop my pants anymore!”
But at least I can mark it off my list!
Oh… and I need my medal.