A story that has to be told

This post is not for the weak stomached... Consider yourself warned...

I tried to tell this story before, when I first started blogging, but I ended up removing the post because it embarrassed some people. However, the more I think about it, the more I realize this story needs to be preserved for posterity (and possibly blackmail purposes)

Now it is important for anonymity to remain... So suffice it to say this took place within my family. Only the names have been changed to protect the not so innocent.

We used to do the tball/baseball thing a lot. And anyone who has been to these children's leagues - and if you have boys - understand parents tend to look the other way when a little boy needs to use the tree... Or the wall.

The problem lies in the lack of restroom facilities. Nine out of ten games or practices were held in a place where there were no toilets... And just what are you supposed to do with a 6 year old boy who is in thrashing fits of pain and will definitely burst if he doesn't mark his territory? Nevermind he just went at home 20 min earlier.

So, we look the other way.

Until my children came into the picture.

You see, I was at home with our newborn, baby Jerry. Hubby, being the great husband he is, offered to take Newman and Kramer to George's coach pitch game so I could rest. He even called his parents for backup support.

The stage was set for a wonderful evening for all of us.

Shortly after the game started, Newman and Kramer announced their need to "go". Looking around, hubby could see neither bathroom, nor inconspicuous corners. Seeing the portables close by (they were at the local high school) hubby suggested they go behind those for some privacy. They were happy to comply with his request and hubby sat back to enjoy the game.

A short time later, Kramer comes back alone. “Newman is stuck,” he says.

“No he isn't,” answers hubby, refusing to believe what that meant. “Tell him to get back here.”

Even though Kramer was slightly confused, he obediently returned to Newman to deliver the message. He soon returned to hubby with another message.

"Newman is really stuck. He says he needs you."

Frustrated, hubby left Kramer with his parents and went to retrieve Newman. Imagine poor hubby's horror when he found Newman precariously perched like a little lost crab over a pile of runny poop. It was all over his underwear, his shorts, his legs, his arms, his tummy, his bum, his hands – E.V.E.R.Y.W.H.E.R.E.

Hubby had no baby wipes, no tissue, no paper towels and nothing else to make this situation any better. After all #2 wasn't supposed to be part of the equation.

Remembering a trick he learned from scout camp, hubby looked at the thick blades of grass and got an idea.

“Newman,” he says. “Scoot around a little and wipe off.”

What he didn't plan on was Newman plopping his rear right into the mess… and his scooting? Well, that just smeared what was already a mess - everywhere. So, with all determination, Hubby kept urging Newman to keep scooting; wiping here, wiping there. Every time one part would get cleaned, another would become more smeared.

After much trial and tribulation, hubby managed to mop up some of the mess with Newman's underwear. Then, he put the dirty shorts back on Newman and deposited the underwear in the nearest trash can. The messy pair walked over to some empty bleachers and placing Newman on a bench, Hubby left strict instructions not to move while he went to tell his parents he would be leaving early. (His parents weren't far, so Newman wasn’t being left in an unsafe situation)

When hubby came back for Newman he discovered that Newman had not sat still. He had moved. And, he had left a trail – all over the bleachers. With messy child in tow, hubby went to the snack bar to see if he could obtain a few napkins.

"We don't have any here,” they said. “But you can get some paper towels from the bathroom.” At that point, hubby followed the directive finger with his eyes and saw the real bathrooms only a short distance from where they had originally been sitting. (I think I would have cried, but Hubby sucked it up and attempted to clean up some of the mess)

By the time Newman was relatively cleaned up, the game was over and he met his parents walking back to the car. After telling his parents the story, his mom commented, “You know I always have baby wipes in the car... You should have just come gotten some.”

It wasn't hubby's favorite night. And I am sure it wasn't the school's grounds crew favorite morning the following day.