Let me set the scene! It was tough but you put your face on threw your hair into some kind of style. Picked out your best boots and chose an adorable outfit for your cute side kick. Operation meet the Yummy Mummy’s has begun!

It’s all going well. Conversation flowing, coffee ordering went smoothly ‘yes I will have a slim, vendi  latte, not to much foam, hazelnut twist’ brilliant, nailed it! I am a sophisticated yummy mummy, I can pull this off. Or so I thought! 

Striking up empathetic conversation with the mum next to me, bouncing Pudding on on my knee. Casually sipping at perfectly ordered, tasteless coffee. Inside I am doing cartwheels. I have this mothering shit down, nothing can stop me now. Nothing except that ominous tummy rumble from Pudding. Followed by the long juicy sound of a deposit being made in her clean nappy. Balls! Then comes the obnoxious aroma – why did I let that baby eat some of my curry last night?!!! Oh no is that a slight damp patch on my leg…

Of course the small one is grinning, waving her arms and bouncing. Don’t bounce like that, something bad will happen. Too late one huge bounce and I can feel moisture on my hands. Horrified I look down… Yep it’s a level 5 disaster. Action stations we have a Poonami!! 

Don’t panic, I tell myself, we can handle this. Scoop up Pudding, grab nappy bag and walk confidently to the changing room. 

OH my fucking Christ. That smells awful. I Start to peel off layers. There is shit everywhere, literally everywhere. It’s all over my hands and right up to the Puddings arm pits. Peel off all clothes, contemplate saving them, then just chuck them in the bin. Wet wipes are not going to cut it. You child are going in the sink! 

Thank god for huge muslins. Wrap a now screeching Pudding up and sit her on the floor on top of a freshly cleaned changing mat. Of course whilst my back is turned she quickly removes herself from the Muslim and proceeds to parade stark naked round the questionably hygienic baby change. Frantically scrabble in the changing bag to find a replacement out fit… Meanwhile misses has pulled herself up on the sanitary towel bin and is attempting to force open the lid. 

Hooray baby gro and nappy found. Wrestle on the floor with her majesty whilst she screams blue murder about not getting into the sanitary bin. Tuck her under my arm as I attempt to wipe poo off of every surface. Except I didn’t realise that she has some on her hands… Gross and made even worse as she waves at me in the mirror and proceeds to wipe it all through my freshly washed hair. Before taking that exact moment to vomit down my top. I mean seriously this kid never vomits… Probably the bugs she has just picked up from the floor/sanitary bin! 

Slink out of bathroom smelling of cheesey milk and poo… Contemplate going back to the table and finishing my coffee. Nope not now, I can’t face it. Red faced and smelling like a bin lorry I  head back to the car. This is one Poonami I want to put behind me!

2 thoughts on “The Poonami: A Total Shit Storm”

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