Wednesday, June 19, 2013

it's not a vacation until...

It's not a vacation with the Deep in Poop family until someone has vomited or blown out their pants. Just as a warning this vacation story is not for the feint of heart, or the easily traumatized. This is a story of normal bodily functions gone wrong... OK, I warned you.

Saturday morning at 8:45 am we set out for my little sister's high school graduation. Scrubbed up, dressed in our best, with joy in the hearts of all (except Tillie who was being forced to wear her Easter dress) we realized we were running early enough to hit up the Starbucks drive through. Could the morning get any better?!

Nope, that was pretty much the high point.

Right after placing our order we heard a tiny voice in the back seat say, "Uhhhhh my froat feels dry....."

I turned to tell him to just drink Granma's dang almond milk, it wasn't going to kill him, when he started dry heaving. My little brother sitting next to him started screaming "He's going to puke, aaahhhhhhhh" and began scrambling to escape the back seat. I thought maybe I could grab him and drag out of the car to puke on the sidewalk. Screaming I clawed at the door trying to get us both out quickly, but damn those child safety locks.  I ended up ineffectively throwing myself at the door handle, screaming nonsense noises and watching as Conner puked all over himself.


We pulled through the drive through and parked, my Dad went in to get some wet paper towels and as I pulled Conner and his vomit soaked booster out of the back seat we all heard another sound.


Tillie let out a very sloppy, wet, shart noise. We all knew what was now hanging out in her diaper, thanks to my Mother who fed her prunes that morning because she thinks EVERYONE is constipated and an antibiotic that causes loose stools. Tillie had blown her dipe.

"Don't worry Kerri, I've got Tillie you just take care of Conner." Said Shannon, my new favorite sister.

Tillie's butt action under control, I turned back to Conner and started peeling off layers of vomit soaked clothing. Then I heard a scream. I ran to the front of the car where Tillie was spread out on the passenger side chair. Shannon was holding her legs in the air and her diaper was still velcroed on, but there was shit everywhere. With a shaky voice Shannon looked at me and said "She pooped more and it just shot out, right at me, POOP WAS FLYING AT ME!!!"

So, the force with which Tillie pooped, blasted the stuff out the sides of her diaper and the only thing that saved Shannon (and MY favorite dress that she had borrowed and was wearing right then) was the diaper itself which the divided the explosion.

I grabbed some baby wipes and frantically began trying to wipe poop up off the front seat, when Conner starts wimpering that he's cold. In between wrapping him with a coat from the car and mopping the last of the fecal matter from my Dad's upholstery. Dad showed up with a handful of wet paper towels, taking a quick look at what had happened while he was gone. He choked back some laughter and said "Maybe we just need to go home, hose everyone off and try this again."

Truer words were never spoken, and that's exactly we did.