My summers as a kid back home in Virginia Beach consisted of swimming in our pool all day or going to the beach as often as our parents would allow. The same went for Jeff. Beach, pool, play– that was the life.

But once in a blue moon, we’d go to the waterpark which, back then, was called Wild Water Rapids. There’s nothing like swimming and splashing around in a public chlorinated germfest.

Even at 32, I still love it–which is exactly why I wanted to bring the boy to the waterpark, which is now know as OceanBreeze.

So, the night before, I spent the evening stocking up on snacks, Swimmies and locating beach towels. On Saturday, we made our way to the waterpark early enough to snag a front row spot.
We marched up to the entrance, snack-filled bags in tow, to be greeted by a short line. After we bought our tickets we had to get our bags checked by one of two bag checkers. Like we would on the NJ Turnpike, we foolishly and unknowingly chose the asshole line.

We had 2 bags: the diaper bag with all of Jack’s paraphernalia and a reusable tote with our towels and snacks. Having not visited this park in 15 years or so, it never even occurred to me that outside food wouldn’t be allowed. And just as we got up to the bag checker guy, even before he could open my snack bag, like the crappy poker player I am, I revealed all of my cards: “So, I’m assuming outside food isn’t allowed in the park.”

“Sorry, no, it’s not.”

After the sad realization of having to part with my brand new tube of Sour Cream and Onion Pringles, I quickly went into mom mode. I deflected the bag checker’s Gestapo-like attitude as he peeled all of my unopened delicious chips out of my bag and asked defensively, “UM So, how is my baby going to eat?”

As he dangled Jack’s ripened banana all he could say was, “Well, what we do is put your items in a baggie with your name on it and hold at guest relations.”

I rolled my eyes and mumbled under my breath, just like one of those pain in the ass moms I swore I’d never become.

What I once considered such a joy became a huge pain in the ass.

As usual, Jeff volunteered to bring our delicious snacks back to the car. Jack and I wandered into the park and made our way to the kiddie area. And within a few seconds, as we sat admiring the Buccaneer Cove, I was excited again.

I inspected our goods in the disheveled bag after Mr. bag checker had his way with our stuff. I realized that he missed Jack’s lunch– frozen green beans. Score!

Once Jeff re-joined us, I broke out the swim diaper and sunblock. We stripped down the kid and did what we could to minimize the screaming as we pulled the diaper up over his bubble butt. After we applied the first layer of sunscreen, we were off to splash and play in the ankle deep water.

The three of us had a wonderful time being together again. It was a great way to reunite and share our childhood summertime fun with our own kid. The sprays, waterfalls, lazy river were such a blast.

Later in the afternoon, on our 57th lap around the Lazy River, Jeff pushed Jack in his inner tube as I paddle behind on my own too-small inner tube. Just as I yelled to Jack, “I’m gonna getchyou,” I heard someone say, “Jeff and Jen??” on the other side of the gate, just next to the entrance of the park.
It turns out, it was our friend Lisa, who was there with her mom, sister and her kids. I always forget what a big, but small town Va. Beach really is.

lazy river

As we rounded out lap 64 on the Lazy River, with Jack on my lap, my legs started to fall asleep. As I pulled jack off and gave him to Jeff, I noticed a strange sight on my swim skirt.

Oh please no.

We walked over to the little pirate ship in the middle of the kiddie area. As Jeff held Jack, I peeked into his swim diaper AKA a septic tea bag and saw exactly what I feared.

Crap. Literally.

I have this single friend at work who loves telling me stories about his joys of going swimming at his local pool on Friday nights. “Friday nights are the best because there are no families there,” he’ll say. “Well, you know, because every weekend if one kid isn’t barfing in the pool, another is pooping in it. And of course, my time is always cut short thanks to them!”

Those are always the kind of conversations that I’d smile, nod and chuckle and go about my day. And then, I’d think to myself, “my kid won’t ever be one of those.”

If you know where I’m going with this, here’s your warning: do not pass go if you don’t want to read about well…you know.

Per usual, I’m sure I went about this whole thing the wrong way. But once I realized that Jack went #2, I immediately whisked him off to the bathroom to change and disinfect ourselves. I plopped him on his travel changing mat, atop one of those bathroom changing stations and foolishly tried to pull off the diaper exposing a scattered mess in my haste.

Experienced moms should warn you about these things. But then again, this is probably common sense– something I definitely did not tout at that particular moment.

As luck would have it, my kid wants to run and flail, just as a busload of people decide to come in and change next to us, while a curious little boy wants to make conversation with Jack.

Surely, they were all mocking the novice spectacle that just exploded in front of us.

As I mouthed obscenities to myself, I scraped and wiped and shook my head, as I tried to disclose the grossness that occurred in our corner of the shower area. After using almost every single wipe in our travel container, I put on a fresh new swim diaper and rinsed off Jack’s swim shorts. After wiping down the disgusting mess on the changing table, I sprinted back to Jeff to drop off the kid with the swiftness of a baton transfer in a relay race.

It was time to clean me and our travel mat! Thankfully, I carry around prepackaged alcohol towelettes in the diaper bag. I was able to scrub the soiled travel mat, as well as myself, as a long line of stall-waiting females could gawk and question what I was doing.

Swim diapers are designed to catch poo, and that’s about it. Apparently, they’re not designed to come off of your movable child too easily, nor contain the poo if the diaper is recklessly peeled off your child.

Baby BungeeAfter the whole diaper debacle, the rest of the day was breezy. As Jeff “hid” from the sun, Jack napped for almost 2 hours and I was able to run off and escape into the various slides and tubes.

Needless to say, the waterpark with a kid is much more work but definitely a different kind of fun!