Poop in Red Lobster

I must warn you, if you are offended by the word "poop", the discussion of poop, or bad poop jokes, STOP READING! Of course, if you are a mother, then chances are poop has become, or at least once was, part of your regular vocabulary.

Myself, my husband Steve and our son went to eat with Steve's family. Restaurant of choice? Red Lobster (we had mad coupons and gift cards ;) ). This restaurant is 45 minutes away, so we also scheduled to have family portraits done nearby. The picture taking goes splendidly, although it was a little long. We are heading to Red Lobster, and Steve turns to me and says "Do you smell that?" Well, I had NOT smelled anything until he brought it to my attention. It was horrible. We were driving a tiny Geo Metro, so it took about 5 seconds for the entire car to be engulfed in the smell of...you guessed it...poop. I crack the window, and we are laughing hysterically at the fact that someone so tiny could make such a BIG smell. 10 minutes later we get to Red Lobster, and head inside. The wait is long. The place is packed, with people standing everywhere inside and out, waiting for their table. I know I have to change him. I would have opted for the car, but the Metro is way too small, and it was still snowing like a blizzard out. So I put on my humble face, grab the diaper bag and the stink bomb child, and head for the ladies room.

As soon as I enter I know it is going to be bad. The changing table is wedged in between the 2 sinks and the 5 stalls. You have to stand right next to me to wash your hands. I try to wait a few minutes for some of the ladies to leave, but more just keep coming in. I finally cave, open the changing table, plop him down, and start undressing him.

The level of stench in the room is slowly rising with every layer I remove. I am down to the diaper. I turn to the lady washing her hands and say, "I am going to wait until you are finished, this is going to be a little nasty." She laughs and tells me not to worry about it, she has kids too. Off comes the diaper. OH MY GOD. It was as if someone snuck in the vents and flooded the bathroom with nauseating fumes in order to make us all sick and pass out. The lady turns and looks at my child as if he is Lucifers first born, and gets far away as fast as possible.

Another lady comes out of her stall, heads for the sink, stops, looks at me, turns a little paler, and leaves without washing her hands. Enter Little Old Lady. This woman walks in, stops dead in her tracks with the door still open, and says "Oh honey, you shouldn't have done that." Then leaves. I am ten shades of red, my child is laughing hysterically, and people are giving me that "poor child, he has such a terrible mother" look. My sister in law comes in, catches a whiff, and just starts cracking up. "Oh, Bubby, when you poop you sure like to make sure everybody knows it!" I think that is what she said.

I finally have him changed, dressed, my hands washed, and now it is time for my graceful exit. Now, the restrooms are located at the very front of the restaurant, right next to the hostess stand. Figure out what that means? Yes, everyone waiting for a table is crowded around the bathroom door. So I aim my eyes at the floor, and head across the room. I hear someone saying "Look Herb, right there, see that little boy?" I turn my head, and see Little Old Lady, pointing at my son, and talking very loudly so that her husband, apparently hearing impaired, can hear her.
"That's the little boy who pooped so smelly that I can not use the bathroom here, that boy right there, so awful."
I hear a few chuckles around the room, a few sympathetic looks from some younger women who probably have children of their own, and a lot of avoiding eyes.
Then my child waves at her.
"He's so sweet, too bad he smells so bad. Is he sick or does he always smell like that?" She asks me, still talking loudly.
Right at that moment, my three year old neice runs up, grabs my hand and says "Baby Cousin made the bathroom smell really yucky. Let's go eat." And off we went to our table.
*Sigh*