If the heading doesn’t give it away then I will warn you that the main topic of this post is poo. And just for further clarity we are of course talking about baby poo. For those of a queasy disposition then do not read on any further. Don’t say I didn’t warn you! Note: You will however miss quite a funny – even though I say so myself – true story.
We have gone to Cornwall – more specifically Polzeath – on camping holidays for the last 10 years. It is like a home from home for us. This camping holiday had particular significance as it would be the first time we would be going with Harry. After unpacking and making ourselves at home, our first stop was of course, the beach. Lots of preparation went in to ensuring I had packed the sun-tent, the UV suit, the factor 50, wipes, toys, snacks, fluid, sun hat, towels and the picnic blanket. I actually felt quite smug as we sat down to chill out and relax. However, what I hadn’t accounted for was the sand…..to be more precise how tasty my son found the sand. He scooped it up in handfuls! I thought “he will taste it and that will be that”, but oh no…he was obsessed by it. I spent the next hour or so trying to stop him from eating most of the beach. Frustrated that my relaxing sunbathing day had not materialised, I packed everything away and we made tracks to leave.
Now Harry has always been a smiley baby and so I wasn’t that surprised to see people looking at him in the buggy as we made our way to the road. But what did confuse me was their reaction, it was one I hadn’t experienced before. Odd I thought, so I looked over the top of the buggy and spotted brown runny liquid on the seat by my son. “Oh Chocolate” I thought. “I must have left some on the seat”. As I bent over to try and locate the melted bar, the smell hit me. What went in was obviously coming back out. The sand had acted as a DIY fast-acting colonic irrigation!
Trying to juggle a pram, small child and belongings off a beach is difficult at the best of times. Yet a Herculian effort meant we were off the beach and back at the caravan in record time. Child was extracted from seat, stripped down and carried over to the communal showers by a hysterical crying mother in the blink of an eye. The new buggy – oh yes did I mention it was new – was left with my husband to sort out. I wanted to set fire to it but then I was a little emotional and therefore completely irrational at the time.
As we sat down that evening both physically and emotionally scarred by the experience, the only thing that helped ease our suffering was drinking copious amounts of wine. This was Day 1 of our holiday. We had another 9 to go. How do you go 9 days on a beach holiday avoiding the beach?? We needed to have a plan, and through my tears and drunken haze I saw the solution. Hey Presto the toy basket that I brought became the beach
cage play pen. It didn’t completely stop him but it certainly made it more difficult, and it made Mummy a lot more relaxed knowing that the horrors of the previous day were not about to be repeated. The smile on his face in this picture was a mirror image of my own.
What might surprise you though – because it did me – is that for a couple of days afterwards what was left in his system came out very firm with quite a sandy texture. He was quite literally pooping sandcastles.
We are one year on now, and in a couple of weeks time we are off in the caravan back down the coast. I have my fingers crossed that last years sand experiment was just a phase. As part of our holiday planning we got our cheeky little monkey a sand and water table for the garden, and as yet he hasn’t tucked in to it. I hope he is cured as I can’t afford another new buggy, we don’t have a basket big enough to contain him, and there is not enough wine in Cornwall to help me get over it for a second time!
Harry’s Honest Mummy x