Yeah, so, during the Fourth of July weekend, my mighty, mighty good man David and I decided to take our mighty, mighty good boy Calvin to an Oakland A’s game. It was a fireworks night, and we thought he would enjoy the fireworks. [Narrator’s voice: He didn’t.]
At one point I went to the ladies room, and there was a mom behind me in line with a toddler in a stroller. The toddler was probably about 2-2 ½ years old. The big handicap stall opened up when it was my turn, but I told the mom behind me she should take it since she’s got the big stroller.
Well, she still couldn’t get the stroller in there. The stall wasn’t that big. Another woman offered to stand with the baby while the mother used the restroom, which I thought was really nice of her. Then the mother noticed that her baby was wet through her clothes, so she tried to navigate through the crowded restroom to the changing table. Another woman and I helped her with her stuff. “We’ve all been there,” I told her.
Just then a younger woman pushed her way through: “I’m just trying to pee. Get out of my way! GAWD!” And basically, every mom in the restroom gave her a dirty look. We practically hissed at her.
Yes, it was crowded in there. Yes, I understand when you gotta go, you gotta go. Still, shut up, dummy. Be nice.
This isn’t the end of the story.
By the 7th inning, Calvin said he had to use the potty. Actually, what he really said is “Uh oh. I went poo poo.”
So, I grab my ginormous mom purse, and we headed to the ladies room. I’m not going to get too gross here, but let’s just say … this shit was messy. I probably shouldn’t have let him eat an entire bag of popcorn.
Anyway, we’re in the stall, and I’m trying to get these pants off of him and clean him up, and Calvin is apologizing over and over.
“I’m sorry, mommy. I’m sorry, mommy.”
“It’s OK, sweet boy. Accidents happen. We’re going to get you cleaned up,” I told him.
He said sorry so many times that other women were chiming in:
“It’s OK. It’s just an accident.”
“Don’t even worry about it. It happens all the time.”
Then I realized that I forgot the wipes. I always carry backup clothes and wipes even though he’s 5 years old and potty trained, because the one time you don’t is the one time you’ll need them, right? That’s what happened here.
“OK, I forgot the wipes, honey. Let me get some paper towels,” I said.
I open the stall door to get paper towels, and there are none.
“OK … There are no paper towels,” I told him. “We’re going to have to do this with a ton of toilet paper, I guess. Don’t worry. We will get you cleaned up.”
And that’s when all the ladies in the restroom sprang into action.
“I need to change my baby anyway. Let me run back to my seat and get her and the diaper bag with wipes.”
“I’m going to run to the nearest food stand and get all the napkins.”
Another woman just ran out without a word, and returned a few seconds later with a bunch the napkins and paper towels from their suite.
“Thank you, ladies. Thank you,” I kept repeating.
“Oh, this always happens to me – the one time I forget the wipes,” one of them said.
“Or you remember the wipes but then you forget backup pants,” another chimed in.
“This happened to me with my son just the other day,” yet another woman said.
I was so grateful to these ladies. I thanked them repeatedly, and I went back to my seat to tweet my thanks, because that’s what I do.
When I’ve shared this story with some of my mom friends, they all have similar stories about their children having accidents and every mother within a two-mile radius chipping in to help out. Good job, moms. There’s a lot of mommy shaming out there, but I’m happy that sometimes we’ve got each other’s backs.