Let's start with Wednesday night, just 12 hours before we left to set the stage. My mom, Danny and I (brother and his girlfriend left that afternoon) decide on Mexican food for dinner. It dawns on me that Tucker hadn't pooped that day yet and it could mean bad things for us on the drive home. I worry about his poop schedule and weight way more than I should. So, we decide it would be a good idea for him to eat some of my refried beans for dinner. He ate half of what came on my plate.
We leave the condo at 6 am Thursday and we stop at Krispy Kreme like I demanded we do earlier in the week. I've only ever had Krispy Kreme from a gas station, so I needed the real deal. Worth the belly ache and every calorie in case you are wondering.
9am rolls around and Danny decides he needs a pee and stretch break. We pull off, do our things and hit the road again... for another 45 minutes. At approximately 10:00 am, my mom starts smelling poop. We pull off at the next exit and find that Tucker did in fact poop. That's fine.. until its in his shorts. (He peed on his going home pants Wednesday night. I should have known what we were in for). Take him in the bathroom, strip him down, use every wipe we have, get shit on my own shirt and we are done. I threw his clothes away. 1 outfit down and Tucker is now in the back up outfit of shorts and a short sleeve onesie from my purse heading back to 50 degree weather and we are equipped with cheap gas station wipes.
In approximately another 45 minutes, a wave of shit smell hits us all again. Yes, again, not even an hour later. And yes, it is out of his diaper again. Strip him down, use half of the cheap wipes, wrap Tucker in my jacket to take him to the car to find another outfit since I threw the second one away too. 2 outfits down and Tucker is now in shorts and t-shirt jammies. At this point, the Shit Storm of 2014 has to be over, right? I mean usually when he skips a day pooping, he poops twice the next day and its over with.
I have never been more wrong. We pull over for a late lunch and I start driving so Danny can get a little nap in. About an hour later, my mom notices something in Tucker's hand. Initial thought was oatmeal pouch, but once she realized that was in the cooler, it could only be one thing. Poop. More freaking shit. In between dry-heaving, my walks through pig shit husband is handing my mom wipes, I'm rolling windows down, my mom is laughing so hard you can't hear her and I'm trying to find an exit through my tears from laughing at my mom. I find a truck stop and pull over safely and we all get out and just stare at Tucker. It. Is. Everywhere! On his legs, in his seat, in his hands. It took a good 3 minutes to figure out how to get him out without getting shit all over us. About 10 minutes later, my 10 month old was laying butt ass naked on a beach towel on the grass of a truck stop in the middle of Kentucky where it was 50 degrees. While Danny dealt with the car seat, my mom and I wrapped Tucker in a towel and took him in to rinse him off in the sink. The shitty ass wipes from gas station #1 were not cut out of episode 3 of the shit storm.
Luckily, poop #3 was it for the day and we were back at my mom's house after 15 hours of driving.
It's a good thing he's cute