Monday, June 23, 2008

Poo-Mergency ala Amusement Park

Some people call it crazy. Some might say... "adventurous", (in an attempt to avoid any offense). I think crazy is probably right on the money, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I am referring to our big trip to Dorney Park and Wildwater Kingdom this weekend. Now I'll remind you, my children are 12 months and 2.5 years. What could possibly posses a person two take two diaper-clad-but-also-able-to-run-opposite-directions children to such a place? How about a spouses company sponsored event, complete with free tickets, free parking, and the all important free food, (at least 5 hours worth anyway)?

Of course, I had my husband to help me, complicated by the shadow of a possibility that I might loose my cool with my children, (or my husband, as is often the case), in front of EVERYONE he works with and then some. All in all, I would do it again in a heartbeat, although I will likely have to wait until next year.

This trip has shown me a lot of wonderful things, and I think I really needed to see them. Most important to me was seeing my children enjoy themselves. The awe and amazement that this kind of experience inspires really makes all the hassle seem totally insignificant. I'm mostly referring to the cloud I always feel just over my shoulder because of some pretty significant food allergies that we just can't seem to shake. I came prepared with a wide variety of food, all packed up and preserved, ready to fight for my son's right to eat with everyone else should we be searched on the way in. In the end, there was no battle over the eats. I was even brave enough to offer him some chicken that I had not cooked myself, and all went well. I must say, I was really impressed with the kind of information they listed on their website about foods and possible contaminations.

Another important lesson I learned this weekend was one of my own ability to handle whatever is blown my way. We had a little poo emergency during our second trip to the wave pool. In the aftermath, I realized, I can probably handle anything. It went a little something like this...

In an attempt to save my daughter's skin and the earth a few tons of ever-present garbage, I have converted my children to cloth and earth friendly gdiapers. This was our first time out and about in a place like this, all day long, and I came prepared. I had my new wetbag, which I just LOVE, to contain the messies. I had inserts and wipies and spare covers and liners and nondisposable swim diapers and all kinds of helpful things at my disposal. Then I found myself listening to my son beg me to take him back to the wave pool in my good ear, while watching my husband chat away to some important work people, with my daughter sleeping peacefully in the stroller. What a great chance for me to have some fun with RF, just the two of us. So off we go. No shoes. No towels. None of that helpful equipment. Just me and my son, wearing his life vest, his swim diaper, his bathing suit and his way-too-big-but-all-we-could-find-UV-protecting-swim-shirt. Oh what a joy to flop around in the wave pool playing ring around the rosie with a two year old, not a care in the world! We all fell down... SPLAT! We all jump up... SPLASH! So many people interrupting to tell me how cute he is, and I see it too. Then I felt it. A big wet hug, with a big lump in the diaper. Hmmmmm... No wipies. No dipies. No help.

It's almost akin to a flight or fight response. I've got no idea how many of my husbands work people abound, but I do know they can recognize us. So off we toddle to find a potty room, in search of some paper towels. It turns out, amusement parks tend towards the blow your hands dry with hot air type of facility. So off we toddle, at first, to see if we can find Daddy and our gear. Daddy's probably about a 10 minute toddle away, which I quickly realize is an ETERNITY when your two year old son has a waterfall of smelly brown stuff streaming down the backs of his legs. Not too surprising after a rousing game of ring around the rosie. Panicking inside, but scanning for MacGuyver like options, we hurriedly toddle over to the dipping dots stand and ask, politely but not at all hiding the panic from my voice, for paper towels. Mrs Dipping Dots has definitely potty trained someone in her life, because she was not slow or shy about handing me a wad of paper. One stealthy wipe of my sons legs later, off we toddle back to the potty room. The line is, of course, around the corner. "Coming through, toddler can't hold it!" and I muscled my way through, found a little shower, and went to work.

At this point, RF is scared. Its dark, its wet, and he's never had a shower in his life. He starts crying, and I do my best to comfort him without announcing to the long line of people hanging around that I am washing the poo off my child. I get his diaper off easily, because it has these great little snaps, and it falls out. Hysteria ensued. I realize he thinks a part of his body has fallen away. He's hysterical, screaming "Mommy what was THAT?!?!?!" and in his attempt the get away from it all, he stepped smack in it. Lovely. Now I turn to the shower. It has a manual push button that you have to hold in in order to get misted by what little water comes out. Great. I'm all for water conservation, but I would have given my hair for a nice healthy hands free stream. Imagine, if you will, me balancing my extra large sized two year old, all nearly 40 pounds of him kicking and clutching, upside down on my right shoulder so that I could hold the stupid on button in and then try to wipe with my button holding hand before the mist cut off, and not drop RF on his head. Enough said there. Once we and our suits were clean, and we toddled out into the sunlight, I had to take my son aside to talk to him about what was frightening him. Once he learned that it was his poopies and that it was SUPPOSED to fall out and splat onto the ground in this particular situation, he was fine, and we were back in the wave pool, ringing and rosying our hearts out, confident that another poopie was at least another hour away.