Three weeks ago, Shaw came down with a belly bug. For the first time as a Mom, I witnessed the remnants of my child throwing up IN HIS SLEEP. (Shaw did not wake up - which is terrifying).
That said, we spent a couple days lounging, resting, hydrating... I thought everyone was 100% when they went to their Nana's to spend the night. The next morning, Nana let me know that Shaw had a giant blow out, leaving his bum and dingy raw - miserably red & painful.
Still, the boys seemed playful, energetic, without a fever the next day and I didn't think twice about popping in Target for some last minute items. Halfway through the store, cart full to the top, that's when I smelled it.
It's that moment of, "Oh @#$%! What are we going to do?"
It's a battlefield and you have to make spontaneous, swift, strategic decisions about your next few moves to get out unscathed.
I will just go the the bathroom and change him.
%$#! I left the diaper bag in the car.
Fight or Flight?
Realistically, I could wheel the squeaking buggy to someone in customer service, ask them to keep an eye on it, go outside to the car, get the boys situated, change Shaw's diaper, get everyone back in the buggy and start all over again....
Instead, I chose to power through. (Mistake #1)
I tossed my remaining list in the buggy and headed to the nearest and shortest checkout line. I could at least leave with 1/2 of my order and an hour's worth of work.
There. That one. Only one woman in line in front of me. Last few items on the conveyor belt. Perfect. It's a home run.
"Mommy, my bum hurts!"
My heart-rate starts to increase remembering Shaw's bum is already so tender and seconds do matter in this situation.
The lady has coupons.
Of course the lady has coupons.
That's when I saw the wetness begin to seep through the FRONT of Shaw's pants.
Oh NO!! Forget this! I'll go change him!
Wait. She's done.
Okay - our turn. I'll just do this so fast... as I frantically begin unloading everything in the cart. (Mistake #2)
Nash clues in, "Whoa, Momma! What's that? Is that POOP? Oh Momma! There's Poop! Poop! Poop! Ewwwwwww. Oh, Shaw, gross!" He proceeds to sing, "Poop in the cart! Poop in the cart!"
The line behind me begins to engage, stretching and craning their necks to get a better view. I avoid eye contact and stay focused.
The cash register attendant says, "M'aam, woooould yooooouuu liiiiike yooooour miiiiilk iiiiiiin a bbaaagggggg?"
It was slow motion.
"It's fine." I snapped grappling with the fact that poop very well may be dripping onto the floor at this moment.
The next few minutes are a blur. Signing the receipt, someone approaching us that we hadn't seen in 15 years, Shaw saying "Momma, my bum!"...
Like lightening, we raced to the parking lot. I think I was running.
Nash was given free reign to push every button and turn every mirror inside the car, while I had one foot keeping the buggy from wheeling away and both arms nestling Shaw somewhere between the wheels of the Double Bob and the spare tire in the trunk.
Let me paint you a picture: Poop from his elbows to his socks.
It poured out onto the bumper of my car, dripping in between my legs onto the ground as I franticly tried to clean my poor - and now very uncomfortable - baby.
I started with two sets of wipes. However, while I was throwing things from the buggy into the back, I somehow threw one set of wipes - and my keys - into the bowels of our truck.
I continued the mission and depleted the entire box of wipes and used bags for the finale.
B.R.E.A.T.H.E.
Needless to say, none of Shaw's clothes made it home that day. Shaw was buckled in his car seat completely naked. While Nash reminded me repeatedly that I forgot the grapes.
As I pulled out of Target, my clothes soiled and poop leaving a trail from the bumper, I began to cry. Sob actually. It was just one of those moments. I just couldn't do it.
(Even better, my dear, unknowing husband came out to help me unload the car. All I could muster was, "Shaw had an explosion and I ran out of wipes!" Michael honestly trying to be helpful suggested, "You should carry extras next time, so you are more prepared."
Oh the expletives....grrrrrrr.
..................................
Weeks later, I look back at the moment and can't control the giggles. The frantic Mom, loosing control... of everything. Poor Dad, just trying to help. There are just days that you can't keep it together and end up standing in a pile of shit. It happens and it's just life. :)
Kids are funny - so are the Moms trying to pretend it's easy.
In other news: This is all I know about our new house: a drawing on a cocktail napkin over a glass of wine with my husband. On to the next adventure...mystery awaits.
Kids are funny - so are the Moms trying to pretend it's easy.
In other news: This is all I know about our new house: a drawing on a cocktail napkin over a glass of wine with my husband. On to the next adventure...mystery awaits.
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