The Boy (that’s for you, Marelle): MomMomMomMom.
K: Yes, Ethan.
TB: MomMomMom. Why don’t you have a bag?
Hmmm. I glanced over to see him pointing at the sea of purses, sachels, handbags, pocketbooks, diaperbags, ect. There were five women at Chick-fil-a and there must have been 70 bags. Easily.
K: Yeah, um. I don’t carry a purse.
TB: But what about a bag for Nate’s stuff?
K: Am I supposed to carry stuff for Nate (looking around frantically). Does he smell? Did he poop? Nate, did you poop? You already pooped an hour ago. You can’t poop again. I don’t have a diaper. Damn it, I don’t have a diaper.
TB: He didn’t poop, Mom. I just ask because those OTHER moms have bags.
Whatever. Why we gotta be keeping up with the Jones’s when the kids are 1 and 3? Seriously. I have, on occasion, carried a purse. But why would I carry a purse if my husband can hold my keys and my wallet? Hello? Why did I get married? I mean, other than for his hot bod? When I had The Boy, I even carried a diaper bag. I had to because the kid had blowouts twice a day. Every single day for the first year of his life. I have never, ever, ever seen someone so full of crap. The Baby? Crapped once a week for the first 6 months of his life. Scared the ever living hell out of me. I thought he was broken.
That being said, The Baby has had a total of like 3 blowouts in his life. I NEVER carry a diaper bag and on occasion just route around in the trunk for a diaper to change a wet one. Change of clothes? I spit on a change of clothes. I did just start taking one diaper in a bag to church on Sundays because after doing nursery duty one week where every other child had a bag with 6 diapers, two meals, a 24 oz. box of Cheerios, two bottles and 7 changes of clothes, I thought that maybe The Baby felt left out. I mean, what if he actually peed in the 19 minutes he was left in nursery.
So today we are on our way into church when Derek brings it to my attention that The Baby is soaked from his armpit to his thigh. He’s holding him up in the air to show me.
K: It’s gotta be milk.
D: I don’t think so.
K: (leaning over to take a whiff) oh, that isn’t milk. That would be pee.
I’m thinking horrible things until I remember that I was the one who changed the diaper last. Just like me to start to cast stones in the church parking lot. I ran back to the truck to route around for a change of clothes.
I came up empty-handed. Nothing. I didn’t even find something of The Boy’s. N-O-T-H-I-N-G.
I crawled back into the building and went up to the Nerve Center of Childcare at the Mega Church.
K: Would you happen to have a change of clothes for a child whose mother is so incredibly irresponsible that she doesn’t. even. have. one?
The answer was yes. And, as is always the case, they only had girl clothes. Because mothers of boys only buy 3 outfits and make the boy wear them until they wear out. The thought of giving away one of those three worn out outfits never crosses the mind of the mother of a boy. She would be too embarrassed. Now the 27 girl outfits that looked like they had been worn 1/2 a time? Adorable. They found a nice brown shirt for The Baby with the cutest pink heart on it. We sent him on his way and it was only after I handed his bright pink cup over the door that I realized that Nate was going to end up Natalie today.
Personally, I think it’s his fault. You can’t go switching it up now. You are the Non-Peeing, Non-Crapping Child. That is your identity in this family. Any deviations from the personality traits already set in stone at 11 months Will Not Be Tolerated.