I’ve been searching for a “clean” creamer for some time now. I have made my own, just didn’t like it. After reading the labels and having to eliminate them because of the bad ingredients, yesterday I settled on this. Superpoop, oh sorry, Superfood Creamer. I was so excited to try it this morning, I love my one cup of coffee in the morning, I really look forward to it. Now I was going to have my coffee with something self proclaimed sweet and creamy!! Oh that just sounds delicious.

My coffee pressed and I was ready to add my new creamer. I started with a tsp because I’m over 40 and the writing is small and when I blinked to read the package again, it said 2 tbs!! Yes!! More creamy sweet goodness for me, I was so greedy this morning. I froth, I sip, I drink the whole oversized cup thoroughly enjoying the creaminess I was promised.
Coffee also typically offers a promise too, I used the restroom. Then I used it again. Then I went back. And again.
I mention it to my husband and he says, oh it has MCT oil and that can happen. Thanks for the warning oh companion of mine.
Forward she goes.

My 3 year old wants to go to the park. We pack up and start driving and she falls asleep. We reach the park and are parked in front of the restrooms. And then starts a rumble in the jungle, oh man, it’s happening. By some chance, my little one wakes up with a neck ache and starts to cry. She never cries. But now she’s crying, tired, but real tears. I peel myself out of the front seat and go around to get her out of her car seat while clenching and sweating. I try to massage her neck and console her while the sweet and creamy breathes down my neck. I get her out of the car and make it to the restroom as calmly as possible. We go into 1 of 2 stalls with her still crying and me finally being able to sit and continue to try and console her while last years Christmas meal exits my system. She cries and I go and go. Then, in walks another human being. My kid is crying and we’re alone in a bathroom. My body is telling me to stay seated and my mind goes into overdrive of how to console my daughter, show my new neighbor that everything is fine over in stall 1 all while my soul is thankfully silently (or so I think) emptying. This experience feels like it’s lasting forever. My white sneaker with a black sole neighbor (I studied them so I could avoid eye contact on the outside) makes a noise, leaves the stall unflushed, bypasses the sink for proper handwashing and flies out the door. I did it, I scared someone out of the bathroom. My daughter finally calms a bit, I am relieved enough to stop sweating and rejoin society. We pull it together and leave the restroom that I have massacred. There is not one person to be seen. No one on the playground, no one in sight walking. I’m relieved to not have to make eye contact whilst totally weirded out about the silence that is this public place. I sit on the bench recovering while my daughter plays reflecting on the last 10 minutes acting like it’s any other normal moment of any other normal day except on this day I’m traumatized. We wrap up our tainted park excursion and head home.

If you were white sneaker with black sole lady: I am so sorry. That stall was my own personal hell of pain and tears. I’m sorry you had to witness it.

Tomorrow, I think I’ll have tea.

Written by Lauren Busacca

Lauren Busacca is a NJ transplant living in SC with her husband, 3 kids and 2 dogs navigating her way through marriage, parenting, life and all the inbetween.