Did you see that Oprah episode???

Carrie's story about taking the kids out for a bit after the birth of her third child reminded me of an "encounter" I had whilst shopping with my preschooler and infant one day...

While my oldest enjoyed a much needed playdate with some friends, I decided to take my other two to the mall to kill some time (mistake #1...you don't need to keep track, I'll take care of that for ya) Anyone who has been to Orange County CA knows the kind of people who live in Orange County CA (think Desperate Housewives of Orange County...yep, those people) Fake everything, bling weighing down every appendage, tottering around the mall in skinny jeans and Manolo Blahniks...yep, those are the clientele I'm referring to. So you can only imagine how ridiculous I often felt going into that mall decked out from head to toe in my finest Old Navy attire topped off by flip flops with a pedicure that had seen much better days (and odds are a fruit snack stuck to my ass) Anyway...I wheel my gigantic behemoth double stroller into the mall (mistake #2) and so far so good. We make our way through a few stores unscathed and child #2 asks for something to drink. Not wanting to try and traverse the food court with my Graco stretch limo, I opt for a bottle of Gatorade at a vending machine (mistake #3 as the child then proceeded to chug the entire friggin bottle) As I finish paying homage at Old Navy, we briskly made our way over to Gymboree where I immediately run over several small OC children with my big ass stroller in my attempts to get to the clearance racks. Feeling quite proud of myself that our shopping trip has thus far been a success, I become even bolder. "The hell with Old Navy and clearance racks...I deserve something better, I'm going to Saks" Yes, it rhymes, catchy isn't it? Off we go to Saks (mistake #4) I promptly realize that not only am I not 60, I cannot afford anything there. How the hell was I supposed to know? I grew up seeking out red clearance tags like a hunting dog...I'd never even set foot in a Saks until that very moment. I turn my bus around, trying desperately not to knock over the geriatric mannequin when child #2 announces "I have to go potty" Crap. Said child hadn't been potty trained for very long so I couldn't use the "can you just wait?" line on him...I'm lucky he even TOLD me he had to go. I figured when you're in a mall, the best place for a pit stop is often a department store restroom so off we go in search of the nearest facility. As I lumber through the store, I instantly begin digging out wipes and Purell as I hate, detest, loathe public restrooms of any kind. I push my massive beast with one hand while my other hand fumbles around in the diaper bag frantically to retrieve my bathroom arsenal. As a new mom of 3, I realized that this was a good chance to be as efficient as possible so this turned into a pit stop for all 3, bathroom for 2 of us, new diaper for #3. I steer us into the restroom where I promptly shmuck the front end of the stroller into the door frame (sorry buddy!) and as soon as I finally make my way into the restroom my massive bitch blocked some lady from getting out of her stall. Thankfully there was an unoccupied handicapped stall at the far end beckoning to me, bright lights shining down, angels singing (yes, I'm that mom that comandeers the handicapped stall...get over it) He is now bouncing up and down in his seat with his hand in his crotch so I get that stupid ass stroller in as quickly and as gracefully as possible (read: without running anyone else over) and he does his thing, one down, one to go...I take my sweet angel out of her seat and lay her down gently upon the changing table (which has been fully prepared with about 17 layers of paper towels, a blanket, a cloth diaper, and a few toilet seat covers just for good measure) Now, anyone who has taken over a handicapped stall with small children and a giant bitch of a stroller knows how quickly that space can become cramped. I was on one side with the baby while #2 began his investigation of the area, just pleased to be out of the stroller for a few minutes (I now know I should have put him back in...mistake #5) I'm trying to change the baby while turning my head every few seconds to make sure he isn't trying to unscrew any plumbing or licking the handle of the toilet, so far so good. I get the dirty diaper off and am about to put on the new one when I turn again...HOLY MARY MOTHER OF GOD...

"OH MY GOD GET OFF THE FLOOR GET OFF THE FLOOR GET OFF THE FLOOR!!!! DIDN'T YOU WATCH THAT OPRAH EPISODE WITH MOMMY WHERE SHE TALKED ABOUT THE AMOUNT OF FECES ON A PUBLIC RESTROOM FLOOR??? GET UP GET UP GET UP GET UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Unfortunately since I was occupied with a now naked, diaperless baby #3 on the changing table I couldn't grab #2 from off the floor. I was beginning to sweat, I had one hand on the baby while I threw wipes at him with my other hand. He was still on all fours on the floor, clearly oblivious to the fact that I was about to call for a HazMat team and then pass out. I was trying to remain calm and convince him to PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY GET OFF THE DAMN FLOOR. Slowly make your way to mommy so I can scrub you down with a brillo pad, douse you in Purell, and burn your clothes...then I'll give you some fruit snacks... Still on all fours staring at me while wipes rained down on his head. And just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, it did...The stall door next to us closes and locks, his blonde little head whips around and in that horrible slow motion moment that little blonde head ducked UNDER the stall and I hear his voice "Hey lady, ya poopin?" HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT...now I'm in full blown panic mode, not only is my child probably covered in lethal amounts of fecal bacteria and other communicable diseases, he is now going to get kicked in the head by a pair of Manolo's. Baby #3 has now quietly peed all over herself while waiting for me to extract #2 off of the floor so while she lays there in a puddle I do the deeper-voice-like-daddy-in-the-hopes-of-scaring-you-while-clenching-my-teeth "GET OFF THE FLOOR NOW!" So with one hand on baby #3, I launch myself Elasti-Girl style over the friggin stroller to yank #2 off the floor by his arm. I quickly clean up the baby while trying to explain to my son that we don't investigate what other ladies are doing in the potty. "But mom I just wanted to tell her good job and give her some m&m's" Sweet Jesus. I couldn't get out of there fast enough, so with a newly changed baby, #2 all but duct taped back into the stroller, and the trash overflowing with what had been a brand new package of wipes I begin to back the behemoth monstrosity out of the stall as quickly as I can. Easier said than done with what is possibly the largest, most ungainly stroller ever put on the market by the assholes at Graco who designed this contraption from hell without attempting to do what I was trying at that very moment...get the hell out of dodge before the Manolo's came out. Of course that would be TOO easy. Out she came in her perfectly made-up-put-together glory. She swept her MAC covered eyes up and down my frumpy Old Navy clad self, then switched her gaze down to #2, back over to me with a raised plucked brow and look that was one of pure disgust for my frumpy Old Navy clad self and my demon spawn. I gave a small sheepish smile, apologized and got the hell out of her way but not before my son could yell back "HEY LADY, DON'T FORGET TO WASH YOUR HANDS!"