Poop cleanup on aisle three...

So what is it about being out and about that prompts my kid to blow out her dipes?

Is it that super-cute outfit I put her in just calling for the poo to come and get it? Is it the Murphy's law of poo that the more inconvenient the moment, the bigger the mess? Or could it just be something about the particular position she's in when she's in the car seat...maybe it mimics being on the pot (if so, potty training here we come!)?

I dunno, but it seems to never fail, though today's incident in particular was really a best-case... strike that -- not too bad...scenario as these things go.

I was near the checkout stand at IKEA and one of their family bathrooms was open. In case you haven't been there, the family bathrooms are one biggish room equipped with diapers (albeit too large for Munchie), wipes, and best of all -- an armchair for breastfeeding in private and relative comfort. Also, thanks to the cloth diaper under Cora in the car seat (keeps the poops and back sweaties at bay), she managed to escape soiling the seat by mere millimeters (unlike in the Great Poop-scapades...don't ask...suffice to say that there was liquid poo down in the base under the seat and I have gruesome pictures to document the whole thing). Unfortunately her dress was thoroughly soiled and as soon as I got her dipe off, she decided to become free-wheeling baby who was FULL of wiggles. I mean, really, how do you get pooed clothes off a wiggly baby without getting poo all over the place....including yourself? Oh well. At least she didn't pee all over the place too....again, don't ask (first dipe change in the car on first road trip nearly brought mama to tears).

It kind of boggles the mind when you think about what we moms just consider SOP (standard operating procedure...or is that poopcedure?). Another day, another poop or spitup, or what-have-you. We moms are made of stern stuff. Suck it up and make it happen and all that...though I'm not nearly as balls-to-the-wall as my sis. You want to talk about making it happen and you've got my awesome sister, Sarah. She's fed and changed John in the craziest places cause that's what needed to happen at the time for her to have a life and keep her little guy from melting down. She even cleaned up an up-the-back blowout with only five wipes from one of those sample packs (kept in the bottom of the diaper bag for such emergencies) because she accidentally left her regular wipes at the pediatrician. Now that's what I call making it happen. Forget war stories about 'Nam...we moms could make any red-blooded soldier pale with stories of our ordinary days.

So go forth and feel proud of yourself for your extraordinary ordinary day.