Case of the Rainy Green Poop

Yes, what a lovely topic.

But it's not just about raining green poop, no, it is the events of a day that can only result in future therapy for Turbo Boy, and true severe reactions to furniture stores of all types.

Green pants, however, reign supreme.

It all started innocently enough.

We ventured out today to buy a kitchen table, since we're still using one of those gray plastic card tables. It all started out great, with a lunch at chilis. It went fairly well at Pier One where we found a counter height kitchen table (sale, thank you) that I like but Hubby McRed, who may also be known as "Tempermental Artist Hair" for reasons I may or may not blog about, is still unsure of the color, even though we now own it. We then went to Flat Irons, or Shopping Mecca Unlike Anything Seen in the East or West, where the trouble started.

Turbo and Bear were half asleep, but willing to venture into The Great Indoors, also known as "Large Massive Store of Overpriced, but Perty, Furniture, Furnishings and Flooring (I saw the soaking tub get-up that one day I Will Own And Put In My Mini-Castle In The Mountains... moving on...

...to escalaters, and, sheltered I am not, but yet I have not ever seen this contraption, an escalater for shopping carts. In the confusion as to what I was supposed to do to get the shopping car to go up, and my disbelief that it would work or was even a good idea, my son wandered ON TO THE ESCALATER. Okay, he's THREE. It's not the moving up that worries me. It's the getting off. He's three, he could tumble and fall all the way back down.

There are differing opinions on how I reacted, and I do not believe that I 'freaked out' as TAH would have you believe. Instead, I, in my wedge heels and still-healing ankle, merely yelled "Jesus Christ" and asked Drama to please run on to the escalaters to hold his hand. Drama ran and did this, but, inexplicably didn't hold his hand. He looked back. Apparently because after saying, not as loudly as one might insist, Jesus Christ, I called his name, he looked back, and fell.

Okay, fell is harsh. Also, I am not a big fan of the JC exclamation, but for some reason, seeing my little three year old all alone on that escalator, it's what came out. Perhaps I was hoping he would appear and do something, seeing as TAH just stood there, figuring if we left him alone he'd be fine.

Well. He fell, yes, but down one step. Then, since the escalater was constantly moving up, and he was trying to get up and crawl off, he really just ended up crawling in one spot yelling 'help momma help come get me.' To which I bravely hurled myself, wedge heel and weak ankle and all, on to the escalater, grasping poor Turbo into my arms, and carrying him up, all the while listening to him say 'get me momma. you came and get me.'

Now, this would have been fine, if we got off, and he carried on happily.

This did not happen.

"that was scary. that was scary. you got me. you got me momma? Hold my hand momma. I want a hand. Don't let go momma. that was scarry. We don't go down. we don't want to go down."

Uh oh.

So after a stroll around the upper level with the scared Drama, and the continuing commentary of his harrowing five seconds, it was time to go down. TAH held his hand and they talked about being brave and not being scared.

To which, upon getting off the escalater, went right out the window as Turbo grasped my hand and said 'it wasn't scary' with the most unconvincing look ever.

Then, to my horror, said "...but I fell and you got me, and you got me cuz I fell and you didn't get me, I'd be lost and go away and then I'd be all gone...."

Ummm.

OH NO....

uh oh.

"I'd be lost, and go away and then I'd be all gone."

Okay. WHY he would think that if I didn't get him he'd disappear and be gone, I'm not sure, but this thought was why I had to hold his hand in the truck until the other mall trip, ASSURING him with all my heart that I did get him and would never let him go (awwww) Now I wanted to burst out and go "OH MY BABY it's okay, I'll NEVER let you go, NOT EVER, OH BABY, MOMMA LOVES YOU, and I promise, I PROMISE, we will never go on another ESCALATOR again" but all that would do was reassure him that yes, he could have disappeared forever. So instead I said, "Oh honey, you fell, that was scary, huh? But you're okay now." In a confident, reassuring, Momma knows for real you would never have disappeared and never once DOUBTED that you would.

And you think this story should end now, right? Well, it does, for the escalator trauma sort of ended, after an hour of reassuring commentary, hold handing, and not letting go of Mommy...and the ensuing argument of the proper way the situation SHOULD have been handled between TAH and me.

But then, we went to the mall (elevators only). With two tired three year olds, one recently truamatized in a furniture store. So we got a double-decker fire truck stroller (way cool) and roamed the Mecca of All Malls East and West. Then, we smelled something. Something most foul. The Something Most Foul was temporarily drowned out by the excessive fruity mango scents of the Body Shop (they do home shows now, who knew?) but it became apparent Mom would have to change him.

And Mom did.

Utterly.

"It's rainy green poop, mom" said Turbo the Traumatized.
"Yes, it is," said Mom, wiping bright, flourescent green poop off said Turbo's butt. See, it was rainy, bright green, and liquidy. Someone has an icky sour tummy, I suspect Capt. Crunch Berries. I mean, why else would he be flourescent green? It leaked through his diaper onto his pants. I changed his diaper, and then, refusing to put icky wet, green-pooped-laden diapers on my son, stuck him, diaper and shoes (socks had to go too) in the stroller. I rolled the pants and socks up and stuck them in a plastic bag. Out we went to TAH, who's rolling his eyes at the time it took. Yes, I'd like to see what HE would have done.

He sees Turbo and shakes his head. This has happened before, about seven years ago, in a toy store in North Dakota, with Drama girl. We then went to the nearest children's store to buy Turbo pants. He ends up with overpriced shorts ($20 gimme a break) because someone (TAH) was too impatient to actually look at the price. Okay, in his defense, I don't think he actually knew that they made kid shorts that would cost $20. Turbo sees the pants and yells "I LOVE GREEN PANTS I LOVE GREEN PANTS' and gets all giddy putting them on.

So the story should end here, right?

HA HA HA HA

We are not brave fools, we are simply tenacious. We need furnishings. There is no other choice. We can not wait for the children to be in the right 'mood' for furniture shopping. There is no mood for that. So we move on.

We go to Westminster to check out this uber awesome furniture store that TAH neglected to tell me about. Now let it be said, that if Hubby McRed had told me of this store two weeks ago, we would have not had to spend two weekends scouring the local area's overpriced furniture stores for what we wanted, but 'nuff said.

It felt like HOURS, but finally, FINALLY we find what we are looking for. Well, what we want, but don't need for a few months. We NEEDED an arm chair, we ended up with a love seat and two chairs and ottomans. In our defense, all of it for the SAME PRICE (I love caps) as one arm chair from say, an overpriced furniture store. We also needed counter height chairs for our new dining room table, but neglected to find those, instead finding the perfect counter height table that TAH thought was perfect, but as I mentioned, since he never even bothered to mention this warehouse-sized furniture store to me, he can stuff it.

Something rotten then began to stink, almost as much as the behavior of the now over-tired and over-bored three year olds, who have begun tossing pillow cushions on the floor. Problem, I brought three diapers, I mean, these are three year olds being potty trained, who have one regular poop a day. I was not prepared for rainy green poop. All three diapers had been used. I did my best. I stuck Turbo in the stall, wiped up his little bright green ass, and, lacking a diaper, wiped up the icky green diaper as much as I could. Now, refusing to stick an icky wet green diaper back on my son's butt, I placed three layers of paper towels over the icky diaper, THEN put it back on (Like I said, I had no diapers, having used all three, and it was clear to me NOT having a diaper could result in a far worse situation) and said okay baby, we're all done shopping now. And we were.

Now, the grumpy icky tummy boy is in bed, hopefully the worst of the rainy green poop is gone. I fear however, that Bear is just starting his. Hubby McRed, no longer being called TAH, is now not feeling good, though this probably has to do with the Indian he ate tonight, been awhile since he's had the Indian food.

I am finally chilling.