Monday Morning Fiasco – Mommy Tragedies

I’ll preface this post with two caveats – 1. I will share way too much information; 2. Said information might be pertain to barfing and lady business.

Monday wasn’t any more rushed than usual: wake up to small child yelling, “Mommy. Mommy. Mommy;” go get kid, take him downstairs, make coffee as quickly as possible while simultaneously emptying the dishwasher, packing his snack bag and fending off four hungry golden retrievers and a Snoot dog.

This is a Snoot dog (and kid #2)

This is a Snoot dog (and kid #2)

Wife comes downstairs with kid #2, start making scrambled eggs for kid #2 and set up high chair while wife feeds starving animals. After we get through the business of breakfast and coffee, my wife walks dogs, feeds chickens, and checks horses, while I change poopy diapers (bathing if necessary), get small children dressed, get myself dressed, and make sure my gym bag is packed with bra, panties, clothing, brush, etc. You will recall from my Bra-less at the Gym post that I often forget such things.

So, now I’ve remembered the kid’s backpack, we’re in the car, we’re on time and we’re headed out of the farm gates. Courtland is really into going fast now that he has discovered the four wheeler (and yes, please, go ahead and judge me for letting him ride on it already – he’s a kid who lives on a farm. He will likely also drive a vehicle by the time he’s 10. Whatever.). So, I move a little quick around a few turns to give the illusion of going fast, but we’re stuck behind a worky looking van (ladder on top) so we’re not moving very quickly. Our morning drive to school takes anywhere from 25 minutes on a really, really awesome no traffic day to 45 minutes on a really really suck ass traffic day. We only live 17 miles from town but our roads are loopy, one-laned and often filled with tractors and other slow moving farm accoutrement.

Finally we arrive at the highway and we are making great time. We go past two construction sites that he LOVES because they’re filled with “diggers!” and “dump trucks!” and “ment mixers!” We are still talking about the diggers and dump trucks and ment mixers as we head into the really loopy part of this road which is, by the way, not more than 3 miles from school. As we round the last bend, halfway through saying, “Mommy,” he just lets the puke rip, right over the pacifier and onto the car seat, the middle seat, and the Tiger Woobie. Faaaaaaaaantastic.

Of course, he is completely distraught and I immediately pull over into a gravel lot just before you come to the main stoplight before you turn towards the high school. You can imagine that this little stop is a busy one. So I get out, get him out of his carseat, place him on the ground next to it and begin the search for paper towels, tissues, dog towels, whatever I can find to start cleaning him up. I find a skiphop bag from when he was probably 6 months old and thankfully it has an old pack of wipes in it. How did I manage to remove every single towel and his change of clothes from my car? How? Oh right, I was cleaning it out and those were deemed non-essentials. Right.

The ‘older then Jesus’ wipes actually have some moisture left in them and I proceed to clean the kid up all the while reassuring him that it’s ok – “we’ll change your clothes at school, we have an extra carseat, Tiger Woobie is all clean”, etc. Luckily we did have an extra carseat (facing the opposite way, but that’s not important) and he could easily be deposited there after cleaning him up while I cleaned the rest of the car and his stuff. Here’s the f*****g awesome part though. As I lean over the extra carseat while unlatching it to turn it to face forward, I realize that I forgot to put in a tampon before I left home. F*****G GREAT. 

Well, here I am with just a few wipes left (please, please, please say I have had the foresight to put a tampon in my gym bag. Please.). I quickly relatch the seat and get him in it, buckled, and ready to go. He’s finally stopped crying – miraculously I have remained calm and just continued to reassure him so apparently those mushy parenting books are sort of right. Who knew?

“It’s OK, honey, Mommy’s just going to use a few wipes to clean herself up and then we’re going to get moving again. Hang in there.” I move to the front of the car after closing the other back door and get in. I score a tampon from my gym bag

High five.

HOOF*****GRAY! It’s probably from 5 periods ago, but who gives a rat’s ass? And, YES, I do what I have to do and ignore the traffic and the open blinds in the townhouses next to me. I DO NOT CARE.

Though we are making a left turn out of the lot into the busy street, we somehow manage to get out super fast and we’re on our way to school again, having lost only about 10 minutes. Wow, Mommy. Not bad. Considering.

Change of clothes at school and I’m off to the gym. Yay, Monday.

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