The Great Poop Disaster at Target

Well, from the day I started my baby registry (one scanner gun and a whole lot of fun) I’ve loved Target.  Who doesn’t?  Both the one in Oaks and the new one in Malvern have grocery stores attached and a large variety of baby goods.  You can do all your shopping in one fair swoop. I remember being nine months pregnant and my feet had swelled past shoe capacity.  I walked around Target in fuzzy slippers (the only footwear that would fit) and didn’t feel in the least bit ashamed.  What other store offers this level of comfort?  None.  But how baby friendly is it?

Well, it doesn’t have the convenient “family” parking I’ve grown to love at places like Wegman’s or IKEA, but it didn’t seem to matter.  The shopping carts fit even my Chicco car seat (I’ve found this particular brand isn’t the best at molding to high chairs or shopping carts).  They’ve got everything for baby from diapers (their own cheaper brand) to breast pumps.  They’ve got baby clothes (oh do they have a nice clearance rack too), strollers, cribs….you name it, and it’s probably there.  In fact, second to Babies R Us, they’ve got the best selection of stuff to choose from for a decent price. 

So I’m wheeling the baby around grocery shopping, when all of a sudden I hear the dreaded pre-poop growl.  She hasn’t gone all day, and while I’m thrilled it’s happening, I’m not thrilled it’s happening here.  Let me give you the low down on the Target bathroom situation.  First, I forgot that I can’t take a cart in there, and must leave my groceries in the aisle unattended, I hope no one takes it away.  Thankfully the bathroom has a changing table, but it’s right in the middle of the sink area with absolutely NO privacy.  The only good part was it was located next to a garbage can, which I needed.  So my baby has just had a poop explosion, we’re talking a big old mess.  Her outfit is now unwearable.  In the middle of changing her, she pees everywhere and starts bawling.  Now in a stall, by ourselves, this might not have been so traumatic.  But every darn woman in the place has to comment on my situation or try to touch the baby while she’s soiled and screaming.  I appreciate the sympathy, but really, I got this.  After washing her no longer white footies in the sink, I pack away our belonging and go to find our cart once again.  I smile because I was clever enough to pack the diaper bag specifically for these kinds of disasters, but frown at Target’s lack of diaper changing privacy.  I guess you can’t win them all. At least before I leave,  I can get some more Oxyclean because that new poo-stain is a doozy!