We put the p-o-o in pool

Saturday was Auntie Kim's annual summer cookout and Wiffle ball tournament for which we made the trek out to Grafton, about an hour's drive. (For us, that's a lot.) We were expecting record heat that day (over 100 F) so my sister's neighbors were kind enough to offer up their pool to those of us bringing little ones. They have 4 kids of their own so adding a few more to the mix is no big deal.

After having some snacks and playing a bit inside, Auntie Stacey and I got the kids dressed in their suits and headed over to the pool. None of the kids know how to swim so we have to hold them the whole time we are in the water, even with their life vests on. After being in the pool for about half an hour, Collette said the P-word. Normally, this would not be alarming. She is potty trained and gives ample warning when she needs to use the bathroom, especially where poop is concerned.  However...she has been on a potty strike, of sorts.  She now refuses to go to the bathroom anywhere outside of home.  Even if a I have a potty ring (just like the one at home) and put it on someone else's toilet, she screams and cries and kicks and just. won't. go.

So, when she said "poo poo," I bolted out of that pool, knowing that she must be pretty desperate if she's willing to go when we're not at home.  As I was running upstairs, cradling Collette, to the bathroom, I realized there was already a bulge in Collette's bathing suit.  I was too late!  Once we were in the bathroom, it didn't take me long to realize that she was done pooping and it was now trapped in her bathing suit.  This was a low moment in parenting for me, to date.  Getting the poop into the toilet and trying my damnedest to not get any on my hands or all over my sister's bathroom was nearly impossible.  Meanwhile, Collette was crying that she wanted to go home to poop (a little late for that!!) and fighting my every move to get her de-pooped.

I somehow managed to get her clean and not ruin my sister's bathroom in the process.  She was still crying, though.  Traumatized, no doubt.  Then, I looked out the window, which faces the aforementioned pool.  And I see everyone evacuating.  And I know it can only mean one thing.  Poop in the pool.  To say I was mortified is an understatement.  I wanted to curl up into a little ball and just die of embarrassment.  Alas, I am a grown up and we grown ups have to face these things.  I changed Collette into her dry clothes and headed over to the neighbor's yard, my head hung in shame.

I climbed up to the pool deck to assess the damage.  And there, right in the middle of the pool, was a fairly large poop.  And it wasn't a floater, because that would be too easy.  No, it was a sinker and it was sitting at the bottom of the pool, mocking me.  My brother was there, laughing at me and disgusted with me, simultaneously.  I asked him where Kerry (the owner of the pool) was and what the "plan" was.  Do pool owners have special equipment for such things?  No, they don't.  The plan was to use a pail and the pool cleaner net thingy to dive down to the bottom of the pool and scoop out the poop.  So, Kerry and I put on some kid goggles, each got a pail and net thingy, and took turns diving for poop.  Ya...that really happened. 

Where was this guy when I needed him?!

How was YOUR weekend?!