I was a hot mess last Saturday.
I was not supposed to be. All the attention was supposed to be directed at my friend whose birthday we were celebrating. But I guess we don't typically get to choose the timing of our messes.
It all started when we met at my friend's house to drive together. I was going to drive because Karis came along as an honorary member of our girls' breakfast. Everyone arrived, we piled in my luxurious minivan, and then...the sliding door got stuck. Would. Not. Budge.
I called my friend's husband to come outside to look at it, sure that he'd be able to glance at it and immediately see some silly mistake that I was overlooking. THIRTY MINUTES LATER we still sat in that driveway! We googled our problem. We figured out how to check the fuses. We got on the phone with Honda. Finally, I told my friends to head on without me. Andy was on his way and we'd just drive the van to the mechanic (with the door open, mind you). As my friends began to unload and Andy pulled up with my boys (still in their PJs), my friend's husband found a small broken cable and figured out how to shut the door. Long sigh. We piled back in the van and headed to breakfast.
I was a little rattled at this point. I don't really like being the center of attention, ESPECIALLY when someone else is supposed to be. And I absolutely hate it when people are inconvenienced because of me. But, alas, these were some of my best friends, I reasoned, and they were not upset.
When we got to the (very crowded) restaurant, a table for 6 became available. There were 4 of us plus a stroller, so that's where we were seated. However, as we approached the table I realized the awkward seating arrangement would be me and the stroller on one side and my 3 friends scrunched shoulder-to-shoulder on the other. And then one of my friends wanted to hold Karis for a bit so there was a 4 to 1 ratio going on. This was not helping the feeling that all eyes were on me.
Towards the end of breakfast, Karis was lying across my lap. I bent down to pick up her passy that she dropped and when I did I accidentally smashed her sweet head into the edge of the table. It left a red, indented line across that perfect little scalp. She (understandably) started screaming and I swooped her up in my arms and fled out the back door of the restaurant. As we stood outside, I kissed her over and over and told her how sorry I was...and maybe I shed a tear or two myself.
Finally we got ourselves back together and returned to the party. My friend, who knows what I'm thinking in almost every situation, knew I was trying really hard to hold it together. So she told me a great story about the time she dropped her baby's car seat with her baby strapped inside and the carseat flipped over. And then, even though her baby was completely fine, she still reported herself to her pediatrician out of sheer guilt! Ahhh, I am not alone unintentionally victimizing my child. Thank you for the validation.
But no sooner had her story began to calm my nerves then Karis had a blowout poop that soaked through her clothes and onto mine. (I am not making this up, People.) Seeing that this restaurant did not have a changing table we decided we'd better just call it a day. We fumbled back to my not-so-luxerious minivan that now doubled as a changing station so that I could strip Karis down completely naked, give her a wipes-bath, and re-clothe her, all while the birthday girl and my two friends looked on. I even had to take back the gift bag that I had just given my friend which was holding her birthday present so that I could use it to transport Karis' dirty diaper. Talk about tacky!
I know people who also carry a change of clothes for themselves in their diaper bags. Now I understand why...Because it's a little uncool to walk around with mustard colored poop smeared down your white blouse.
Not one of my finer moments...
I was not supposed to be. All the attention was supposed to be directed at my friend whose birthday we were celebrating. But I guess we don't typically get to choose the timing of our messes.
It all started when we met at my friend's house to drive together. I was going to drive because Karis came along as an honorary member of our girls' breakfast. Everyone arrived, we piled in my luxurious minivan, and then...the sliding door got stuck. Would. Not. Budge.
I called my friend's husband to come outside to look at it, sure that he'd be able to glance at it and immediately see some silly mistake that I was overlooking. THIRTY MINUTES LATER we still sat in that driveway! We googled our problem. We figured out how to check the fuses. We got on the phone with Honda. Finally, I told my friends to head on without me. Andy was on his way and we'd just drive the van to the mechanic (with the door open, mind you). As my friends began to unload and Andy pulled up with my boys (still in their PJs), my friend's husband found a small broken cable and figured out how to shut the door. Long sigh. We piled back in the van and headed to breakfast.
I was a little rattled at this point. I don't really like being the center of attention, ESPECIALLY when someone else is supposed to be. And I absolutely hate it when people are inconvenienced because of me. But, alas, these were some of my best friends, I reasoned, and they were not upset.
When we got to the (very crowded) restaurant, a table for 6 became available. There were 4 of us plus a stroller, so that's where we were seated. However, as we approached the table I realized the awkward seating arrangement would be me and the stroller on one side and my 3 friends scrunched shoulder-to-shoulder on the other. And then one of my friends wanted to hold Karis for a bit so there was a 4 to 1 ratio going on. This was not helping the feeling that all eyes were on me.
Towards the end of breakfast, Karis was lying across my lap. I bent down to pick up her passy that she dropped and when I did I accidentally smashed her sweet head into the edge of the table. It left a red, indented line across that perfect little scalp. She (understandably) started screaming and I swooped her up in my arms and fled out the back door of the restaurant. As we stood outside, I kissed her over and over and told her how sorry I was...and maybe I shed a tear or two myself.
Finally we got ourselves back together and returned to the party. My friend, who knows what I'm thinking in almost every situation, knew I was trying really hard to hold it together. So she told me a great story about the time she dropped her baby's car seat with her baby strapped inside and the carseat flipped over. And then, even though her baby was completely fine, she still reported herself to her pediatrician out of sheer guilt! Ahhh, I am not alone unintentionally victimizing my child. Thank you for the validation.
But no sooner had her story began to calm my nerves then Karis had a blowout poop that soaked through her clothes and onto mine. (I am not making this up, People.) Seeing that this restaurant did not have a changing table we decided we'd better just call it a day. We fumbled back to my not-so-luxerious minivan that now doubled as a changing station so that I could strip Karis down completely naked, give her a wipes-bath, and re-clothe her, all while the birthday girl and my two friends looked on. I even had to take back the gift bag that I had just given my friend which was holding her birthday present so that I could use it to transport Karis' dirty diaper. Talk about tacky!
I know people who also carry a change of clothes for themselves in their diaper bags. Now I understand why...Because it's a little uncool to walk around with mustard colored poop smeared down your white blouse.
Not one of my finer moments...
2 comments:
Cute story ;)
Btw.. I always used the trunk to change mine when I was fortunate enough to be out somewhere, lol. Ten times better (and safer) than those yucky public restroom ones anyway
:)
Thanks, Jackie! Great tip. I also have major issues with public restrooms...so much so that I even wrote a blog post about it one time! Ha.
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