There has been a morbid fascination with my exposé of our failed camping trip (read Camping, Crying and Capsizing here). While overall we had a great time with our friends, I left out the sordid details of Bode’s near-fatal (for me, not him) bout with diarrhea for two reasons:
1) If you do not yet have children and want them, I did not want to permanently traumatize you into abstinence.
2) Likewise for those who do not like poop stories because this was the motherlode of crap.
About 2/3 of the way through our 2.5-hour drive, Bode developed diarrhea that exploded out his diaper, congregating in a delicious pool of poop that saturated his car seat and then oozed onto our leather seats below. So while Jamie and Bode were down for a long summer’s nap at the campground, the rest of my afternoon went like this:
- Beckoned Tina’s husband Mark to help me remove the car seat. And wisely so because he got a handful of crap during the process.
- Went to the laundry room and with great difficulty, removed the car seat’s cover for the first time. Was delighted to find three year’s worth of Cheerios and Nutrigrain Bars marinating in poop.
- Rinsed the cover off, threw it in the washer and bought a small box of Tide. Anticipated a nice plastic bag inside so ruthlessly tore open the box. Detergent spewed all over the laundry room. Barely had enough money for the load so was reduced to sweeping Tide up off the filthy floor with my hands.
- Ran the load and then scrubbed the car seat in the huge sink. Realized there was no way the straps would dry by morning.
- Went to adjacent bathroom, hoping to find paper towels but they only had blow dryers. Sat drying my car seat, completing ticking off a woman who had just gotten out of the shower. Felt like telling her, “”You have straight, thin hair. Rejoice in it. It’ll be dry in minutes” but instead gave her a “You are camping–why are you showering anyway” look.
- Car seat mostly dry. Made my way back to put the cover in the dryer but realized I was out of money. Scrubbed my hands from the stench but opted out of drying them because I just spent 20 minutes under the blow dryer.
- Inserted dollar bill in machine. It was rejected due to my wet hands.
- Dried dollar bill under blow dryer. Continued to receive evil looks from thin-haired woman.
- Went back to laundry room. Drama almost over. Tossed the car seat cover in dryer, closed, inserted money. Water started. Wait–WATER? Realized I had mistakenly put it in a front-loading washing machine that was the spitting image of a dryer. A washing machine with an iron-clad lock on it.
- Sat through ANOTHER wash cycle, went back to campsite. Sent Hunky Hubby back to deal with the dryer.
- Poor Hunky Hubby was up all night with diarrhea. The outhouse never smelled so good.
- Vowed to never go camping with children again. At least not when they have diarrhea.
- The End.
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As you are reading this, I am flying to Canada. Alone. With the children. Will there be a return of The Diarrhea of Death?
Pray for me, people. Pray for me. And pray for those on our flight. 
I'm a Canadian-born mom of two, former Denver Post columnist, family travel writer, editor of MileHighMamas.com and 9News contributor. Expert on all things Utah, Denver, family and travel. Lover of laughter and life. Happily married to a man obsessed with growing The Great Pumpkin. 