So, our band concert was today. My husband and I brought the girls with us, and they basically just played with whatever kids weren't performing until he or I were available to watch them.
To the concert, I wore a nice, conservative knee length black dress which didn't give me any real wiggle room based on the constricting material of which it was made. I also wore 2 inch black heels (in other words, a disaster waiting to happen).
After the concert, I realized I brought nothing to change in to for the take-down. So, I shucked the heels and pearls, pulled my hair back with a rubber band, and started tearing things down in my dress as well as I could.
We're waiting on pizza to arrive, and Story comes running in the band room yelling about how she has to poop NOW!!!! I took off after her to the bathroom. She got there first, and shut the door behind her. I waited patiently by the sinks until she was ready for me to help her "clean up."
"Mommy! I done!!" she yelled a minute later. I walked to her stall, and pulled on the handle. It didn't move. I pulled on it, pushed on it, and shook it, but it was locked and not giving.
"Story!" I yelled as I tried to jimmie the thing with my thumbnail. "Get off the potty and open the door!"
"No."
"Yes!" I yelled, frustrated at my now shredded thumbnail.
"I can't, Mommy." So, I looked under the door to the stall where there was definitely not enough room to me to crawl through.
"Story! I can't fit through here! You need to get off the potty and open the handle for me!" She sat quietly and smiled.
"You can fit."
"No, I can't!" I yelled even louder out of frustration. I didn't know what to do...should I try to fit? Or tell her good luck with the wiping? Fortunately, that last thought sent a shudder through me, and I decided that I had to get in there. Even if she did make it off the potty, the chances of her smearing poop all over the bathroom were large.
So, I gauged the amount of room I'd have under the stall door. I tried to crawl under it, but of course, I was too big. Finally, it looked like my only option was an army crawl...
Yes, that's right. An army crawl. On my stomach, in a tight black dress, on the floor of a high school bathroom. I took a deep breath, and pushed myself forward with my hands, trying best I could to think of ice cream and Christmas, and not the millions of particles of...of...stuff I was smushing up against me. At least it was only on one side of me, or so I thought.
I made it through, but then realized that I couldn't get up. My dress was acting like a plastic tube around me, keeping me from the necessary motion I needed to get vertical again. So, I ended up rolling onto my back, and contaminated BOTH sides of myself. But, on my back, I could propel myself into a squatting, then standing position.
My black dress was....gray. I brushed it off, and then wiped Story. She covered her ears, and I pushed the button for flushing. Interestingly enough, everything went down the toilet with the exception of a giant piece of poop. I pushed the button again. It didn't budge. Again. Nothing. Really? I thought. Am I really dealing with this after I just army crawled through a cesspool????
But, I was pretty sure that I couldn't get much dirtier...so I grabbed a wad of toilet paper and pushed it in to the hole, and reflushed....and it went down.
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