The Promised Shitsplosion Story

It was last night, and I had just finished eating dinner, a delicious bowl of spaghetti for those of you who give a rats’ ass what we had. I had to shovel in the last several bites because Archer was fussing in the exersaucer. I figured he was hungry, as he often is, so I headed over to pick him up. I didn’t think anything was admiss at all, because upon first sniff it was questionable whether or not he actually pooped or if he was just stinky farting. His pants didn’t show any leakage and with Archer, it’s incredibly hard to tell. 
So I laid him down on my white couch, and pulled his pants off. Then I peaked inside his diaper and it was, without a doubt, filled with poop. Then my hands felt something sticky.
I turned him slightly to the side and realized that he had exploded out the top back of his diaper, and through his onesie. It didn’t have time to seep through his pants. 
I quickly lifted him up and thankfully no damage was done to my white couch, but I had to holler for Matt to grab me the change pad, wipes, diaper and a plastic bag to toss everything into immediately.
When I set him down to deal with it, the mess was even worse than I originally thought. So thick, so disgusting, Matt ran from the room gagging and I screamed for the scissors. It was as if we were dealing with a medical emergency. 
SCISSORS, STAT!
I had to cut Archer out of his onesie, or else I would have gotten baby goopy poop everywhere. All over him, all over me, all over the beige carpet…it was a horror story barely contained in a sodden diaper. 
I practically cried the entire time, and Matt rushed upstairs to start the bath for me.
I cleaned him up as best I could for our trip up the stairs, the entire time praying to the Gods of baby shit to not have another shitsplosion on the way up, since his butt was diaperless and everything in this house is various shades of beige or white.
Thankfully, the Gods of baby shit were kind to us, and Archer contained everything he had until I put him in the tub. Then he peed everywhere, but pee I can deal with.
I scrubbed him down, dried him off and got him dressed, and even blow dried his hair for him.
Boy got a straight up spa day outta it, and I’m pretty sure he thinks the only way he gets a bath is if he has a shitspolsion.
 
Despite his spa night, Archer was still unimpressed with how I handled the entire shituation, and didn’t take kindly to being called “stank boy”.
{See what I did there?}
And the sad {or extremely scary} part about this story? This wasn’t even the worst shitspolsion we’ve dealt with. I’m sure you remember the shit up my side story, and then there have been several exersaucer explosions.
In fact, this is exactly why Archer’s Jersey Shore name is The Shituation.
Move over Mike, we’ve got a shituation here.
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About J.C. Hannigan

25. Mother. Wife. Lover of words. Weaver of stories. My first book, Collide, is available in e-book for Amazon Kindle and Kobo.
This entry was posted in day to day stuff, stories, the shituation, writing. Bookmark the permalink.

9 Responses to The Promised Shitsplosion Story

  1. Rachel-Ann says:

    holy boy, i dont think i ever had a moment like that. sounds like you handled it like a pro. i would have cried easily. boys seem to always have tobe dirty.

  2. jessi ♥ says:

    I'm now pro at handling explosive poops, thanks to Archer. I don't remember Nolan doing that as often as Archer does but maybe my memory is just foggy haha.

  3. dramaticmama says:

    LMFAO LMFAO LMFAO.
    That is all.

  4. Hahaha! I would have cried too. I love the nickname! And the face! The face is amazing!

  5. Bobbi says:

    Wow, I have to say in my three years of parenting I think we have had poopspolsion(sp?). For that I am grateful or I might have vomited all over my boys.

  6. Glad your laughing haha. Hurry up and get pregnant/have baby number 2 so I can laugh at you every time you get shat on. 😉

  7. It was more like a hysterical, I can't believe this is happening kind of cry lol. That face IS pretty amazing, and so worth it.

  8. Barf is what gets me legit puking. For some reason, I can handle my kids poop better than barf.

  9. Barf makes me puke too. I can handle poop but barf makes me barf. I think it's hilarious you had to cut him out of his onsie. I'm not laughing at you though, I'm laughing with you.

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