I was prepared to pick Michael up at the airport on a Tuesday. I was told that his flight arrived at Dulles at 11:15 am. On scheduled, I awoke and began to get Grace and myself ready for the day. I fed Grace breakfast, changed her diaper, and headed upstairs so I could shower and get dressed. On a whim, I decided to check the flight status on the computer to make sure the plane hadn't been delayed and had made it off the ground as scheduled.
I let out a gasp of horror. The flight didn't arrive at 11:15, but instead, it arrived at 10:25!! In a panic, I calculated what time I would need to leave and how long I had to get ready. I needed to shower, dress, get Grace dressed, and pack a diaper bag...all in 25 minutes max.
Like a Tasmanian devil, I tore through the house getting ready. I sat Grace in her bouncy seat while I took the fastest shower of my life. Dripping wet, I grabbed her up and sat her in the Boppy in the middle of my bed with her toys while I got dressed. No time for makeup, and a dripping wet ponytail was all I had time for.
I dashed to the bed to pick Grace up and go get her dressed, when I noticed something brown on her leg...and on her onesie...and on the Boppy...
For the second time that morning, I let out a gasp of horror. For TWO WEEKS the child had been constipated. For two weeks I had been following the doctor's advice and had fed her pears and prunes, and even given her prune juice. She seemed immune to everything. Well, this morning, with a handful of minutes left before we must run out the door, she has TWO WEEKS worth of poop all over her, the bed, and yes...the bouncy seat. She got started while I was in the shower, and I didn't even notice it as I plopped her in the middle of my cream-colored sheets on my bed!!
With a cry of anguish, I ran to the diaper changing station, holding my 7 month old at arms length. She laughed like it was a funny game. I tried not to cry. I stripped her of her soiled clothes, opened her diaper, and turned to grab wipes.
A third gasp of horror.
There were no wipes in her room. I had already put them on the table downstairs so I could pack them for our vacation since we were leaving that day. Yes, I should have left them there. Yes I should have extras. I usually have so many extras that I could use the cases for furniture, but this was a lean month, and I had planned to buy more the next week.
Don't cry. Think. Think. Meanwhile, the baby is wallowing in poop on her changing pad and laughing like I'm the best comedian ever. Out of the corner of my eye, in a pile of baby gear that had been set aside for passing on or packing up, I spot a free sample of baby wipes! Yes! It won't be enough, but it will get her decent enough for transporting her to the tub.
As I bathed her I realized that this was really all my fault. I had made the mistake the other day of thinking that perhaps I would escape the experience of having a blow-out diaper. People joke about it all the time, but so far I had avoided it. That was where I messed it all up and invoked Murphy's law on myself.
The clock was ticking. The plane was getting closer. This was Michael's first time flying without an airline employee to accompany him, and I wascleaning poop instead of heading out the door. I gave Grace the fastest bath in her history, got her dressed, packed a diaper bag complete with bottles, and dashed out the door to the car.
If there had been construction or a fender bender or anything on I-95, I would have been late. The Lord must have decided that I had had enough trials for the day, because I made it to Dulles in record time. I was seated at the doorway waiting for Michael when he arrived.
Somehow I managed to shower, dress, bathe Grace, put the soiled sheets and sundry items in the washing machine, get Grace dressed, and pack a diaper bag in about 25 minutes. It has to be a personal record.
