Turdler

Yep, I have a turdler.  What is a turdler you may ask? A turdler is a toddler between the ages of 15 months and 30 months that is essentially, an ornery little turd—— put the two words together and you have yourself a turdler. 

As you may already know, or maybe you do not… I am a mama of four.  My youngest of our four children, Brock, is 22 months old. He is the cutest, funniest, and wildest little boy I have ever met- with a pretty large personality.  He is with me most of the time per my choice and typically listens pretty well to simple commands or rules.  For being so young, he really does listen well.  However, in many young people’s lives they cross a phase in which they just get a little ornerier.  They physically are capable of more in the middle of toddler phase, yet their brains still lack the common sense to keep them safe or to assist them in making smart choices.  

Take these facts into consideration in combination with Brock’s urge to be funny and/or ornery leads me down a pretty humiliating, but nonetheless, hilarious story.

So it all started with going out to eat for breakfast with my kids and my sister-in-law, Teah.  I don’t know about you, but per some people’s regular toilet habits, if you know what I mean…. I wake up, eat breakfast, and then the tummy shifts and makes room. (wink wink). So having eaten breakfast out in public instead of at home- it sets me up for a public restroom break afterward. Now I don’t want to go into too much detail about that, but my story requires this information.

While checking out at breakfast I noticed that Brock, my 22-month-old, was poopy.  No biggie, I needed to use the restroom too.  While I left the other kids with Teah, Brock and I headed to the bathroom. I get to the restroom, change him, and thought, “okay, my turn!” 

To set up your visual here, I was wearing a bodysuit tank top that snaps between the legs.  When you wear one of these, you do not wear underwear, because it serves as your underwear. I was also wearing a crochet cardigan with large Lacey-like see-through holes and a pair of shorts. I also had a side-sling backpack on.  

So, my turn.  I sit down in the stall and Brock is standing in there with me.  As a mom, you know this was not the easiest restroom break.  He was trying to flush the toilet on me, trying to open the sanitary can in the stall, trying to peek under the stall at someone else, and even trying to stick his hand into the toilet.  Yes, you know the struggle. 

I turn both ways only to realize that, to my large disappointment, there was not any toilet paper.  I only glanced to my right at the empty toilet paper holder for what seemed like a second.  When I turned back to the front I saw the last part of Brocks foot slipping away under the stall.  I lunge forward to try to snag his ankle before he made the great escape, but I was too late!

Okay, so here I am – shorts around my ankles and my bodysuit, unbuttoned pulled up in the front and the back- sort of just hanging if you will, but hiked up.  My cardigan is swiped to the side tucked under my left armpit so it doesn’t dangle into the toilet water.  I had to think fast.  But my thoughts were not fast enough.  In a matter of 10 seconds, he also opened the bathroom door and Brock had LEFT the bathroom!  I panic. Oh my God, I have doo-doo butt and no toilet paper and my kid just LEFT THE BATHROOM!!

I do what any good mom would do. I blast out of my stall with my bodysuit unbuckled still hiked up and flapping in the wind.  I bust out of the bathroom door trying to pull my shorts the rest of the way up over my bare butt while running.  He is not right outside of the door like I thought he would be.  I can hear his little feet just a running down the hall outside of the restroom.  I’m running, now with my side sling bag in front of my chest in hopes of covering up my bare chotchy- while trying to complete the zipping and buttoning of my shorts all while running to catch Brock.  I finally catch up to him and he is laughing entirely too hard, almost as if he knows how embarrassing this was for me. 

People are around, clearly seeing me a hot mess— possibly having seen more of me than they wanted to see.  I swoop him up, nod my head to near bystanders witnessing this catastrophe and take my walk of shame back to the bathroom to finish what I had started. Brock leans in and gives me a big smooch on the mouth. BOY, he is lucky he is so darn cute!!

Fast forward a few minutes and I find Teah with my kids.  I tell her, “We have to go because I have an ever-so-slightly small dot of doo-doo stain on my shorts.” She dies laughing and leans in and said, “Did you shart?” I spat back “NO! I have a turdler on my hands!!” I told her the story and her reaction made it known that I had to share with you all…

So listen to me, mamas of young children.  No matter what happens- whether it’s doo-doo shorts and flapping body suit sprints to catch your turdler or some other sacrificial embarrassing act to keep your young alive… just know, we are in this together! 

Maria