POO IN THE PRADA!!
Every time Gammy comes to visit the visit gets hijacked by some outside force and we all wind up going into scramble mode to problem solve whatever emergency is giving us a wedgie. From more than one car getting towed, to showers over flowing with sewage to a Biblical-bug-plague of crickets … to having to pack, move and unpack an entire house (on less than a week’s notice), Gammy has never had an uneventful visit. She has always been roped in for emergency service – and served with pride. In a few of those instances, we knew the day or days before that Gammy was going to be needed and were able to warn her. This time, as her arrival approached I started to get a twinge of nerves, fearing that the longer we went without a catastrophe, the bigger the surprise one would be when it hit us.
Gammy is a glamorous woman. She is a jetsetter, an art collector a philanthropist, a trier of avocado toast and a champion at Rummikub. She goes on fabulous girls trips with her #squad – most recently the women did a food and culture tour of Austin, TX. Nice gear is an understatement when it comes to her swag and she has organized receipts, uncrinkled and crisp, filed by date in her clean undamaged wallet. She lives her life with a certain Gammy-flair, requesting turn-down service at her hotels and sending handwritten thank-you notes on beautiful stationary.
This trip, our Glam Gammy was traveling light. She proudly placed a teeny carry-on at the marble steps before scooping her Handful off for a kiss attack. The Handful thanked her for her kisses with a nice spit-up. This spit-up was laughed off as Gammy explained that she didn’t bring anything nice this time because The Handful has weaponized body fluid. I notice the red stripe on her bag from across the room and call her out “Ok so are you saying Prada is nothing nice?” to which she clarified that was the one nice thing she brought.
We spent the next day getting lunch and shopping for clothing for Baby Daddy. In the process of becoming Dad he basically halted all dad-clothing purchases. 9 months later we have to give that closet some CPR. Glam Gammy can work a mall, let me tell you. She proudly pushed The Handful through the stores with one hand while clearing entire racks of clothing with her other hand. “He can return it” was her motto. The Handful did great and we all had a really fun time. Obviously I had to comment at this point that we had made it so far without an incident. But then the hair salon called to confirm my appointment the next day and the subject was changed.
The following day Gammy and Baby Daddy took The Handful to her favorite music class while I got my body fats and face uglies cryo frozen and then got a Gorgeous Goddess haircut followed by mani pedi. Mommy maintenance time. Cryo Freezing is great if you don’t have claustrophobia, I had to get out and get back in more than once because I panicked. Haircut, I like, I went to a new gal in Encino. I will go back. Mani pedi, I went to my favorite place but had a pregnant woman giving me the pedicure which made the foot massage very awkward. By the end of this Miss Congeniality intervention I looked really good. I decided to crash the last few minutes of class so that I could have as many people as possible witness me existing in this condition.
I paused in the doorway to maximize my entrance. I read in a book somewhere that if you pause for a second in your entrance you get more attention. It worked. I waved over to The Handful, who looks a little quiet but is still enjoying class. Gammy is having the time of her life and Baby Daddy is recording whatever he can on his iPhone. Watching Gammy sing and dance with The Handful was one of the happiest moments of my life, they both were laughing and clapping and it was just such a great moment and I’m glad I was able to see it.
Post class we decided to head to a park that was en route to our house, so that we could keep the momentum up from class with a little more play time. Gammy and The Handful came with me, while Baby Daddy flanked us in his Dadmobile. The park was very crowded and parking on the street was our only option. We pulled up Secret Service style in our matching his & hers Jeeps and I did a slow exit out of the drivers side because I’m still really loving this hair flow situation I have going on. As I’m Pantene shaking my head, I hear Gammy yelping from the back seat:
“POO! There’s Poo everywhere, she poo’d out of the car seat … OH MY GOD THERE IS POO IN MY PRADA!!!”
My Pantene turns full Kyle Richards and I run to the passenger side of the vehicle where I see crime-scene poo coming out the side of The Handful’s diaper, dripping all over Gammy. When Gammy went to get The Handful out of her car seat, the poo drippage assaulted her purse. Baby Daddy morphed into Diaper Dude and went into triage mode: clean the baby; clean the car; emotionally support Gammy through this trauma.
As funny as it the story is about poo in a Prada, I actually felt really bad at the time because I would be super mad if my entire bag was filled with poo and I’m a messy person. I couldn’t imagine being organized and respectful of nice things like Gammy and having my bag poo bombed. But later that night Gammy let me know it was ok when she joked “Did you have to say nothing bad has happened yet? I might still have my Prada!”
*as of press time, said Prada is receiving treatment for multiple fecal burns and is expected to make a full recovery and live a long happy bag life.