I forgot to tell this story a month ago, but I was reminded of it today and I think I HAVE to tell it - ugly though it may be.
A few weeks ago, my parents called and invited us their house for Sunday dessert. Of course, we said "YES!" On our way to their house, I realized that I had left Quinton's diaper bag at home. That, my friends, was warning number one that the fates were against us. However, we ignored the warning and drove on. "He'll be fine. He's already had a messy diaper today. We won't stay too long,,," These are the words of parents in denial...
We arrived at my parents' home and got out of the van. One whiff of the air as I removed the baby from his car seat told me that the "he already had a messy diaper today" rationale was shot. David offered to drive home and get the diaper bag, but I didn't want him to miss the whole visit. (warning number two - also ignored). My mom, upon hearing of our situation, said, "Oh, I've got a pull-up here. Will that work?" Hooray for pull-ups! But when I saw it, I realized that is wasn't a pull-up. It was a swimming diaper. Now, without getting too gross, I must explain that the whole idea of a swimming diaper is to let liquids pass through them. They're just there as a net to catch solids, basically. This, I must admit, was my third and final warning that the fates were against this trip. If I had been smart, I would have sent David home to get a real diaper. Instead, I said, "Well, he's empty now. What else can possibly go wrong?" and went on my stupid way.
Dessert was delicious. Afterwards, the older kids all huddled together on the couch reading a "Where's Waldo" book together quietly. It was adorable - and a bit unusual. I guess it was the calm before the storm.
My mom and I were sitting ton the ground, blocking the staircase from the baby. I was sharing my berry dessert with him. Suddenly, all heck broke loose! The next few things all happened within 30 seconds or so. Josh and Bron got in a fight over something, Bron hurt Josh, who fell into the fetal position on the floor screaming. Dave grabbed an also-screaming Bronson. The baby grabbed the bowl of dessert out of my hands while I was preoccupied with the screaming kids and dumped it all over me. I picked up my sweet little bundle of joy to clean us both up. Suddenly, I felt a warmth spread all over my hip. Not the "good feeling" kind of warmth. More of the "I'm being peed on" kind of warmth. I screamed and set the baby down. Bad idea. Now, he was crying along with his brothers, as well as wetting my mother's hard wood floor. Ugh! Mom and I scrambled to get the baby taken care of, stop anyone from stepping in the mess and slipping, and cleaning up. We managed to get Quin into her kitchen sink. Oh, yes. By the way, did I mention that my parents had BARELY had their kitchen and bathrooms remodeled? Everything was so new that we were afraid to even use the new toilet. Quinton skipped the toilet and went straight to peeing in her lovely new kitchen sink. Luckily, it's a huge, deep farm sink so he didn't squirt all over the counter tops. Then, we were able to use her fancy new faucet to give the boy a rinse-off. Way to break her new kitchen in.
On that lovely note, we had to leave. I was mortified! But I was covered in pie filling and pee and I had a now-naked baby to get home before he needed to empty his bladder (or worse) again. My parents were cracking up as they waved goodbye, but I'm pretty sure it will be a while before our family gets invited to visit again.
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