***I'm crazy busy so I'm hitting the ole archives. This was orignally posted in August 2006
Yes, you read that title right. We're potty training this week...need I go on? (sigh) Ok, here it is.
Gabe and I went to the post office tonight and while standing at the do-it-yourself-postal-thing-a-ma-jiggy I hear the dreaded sound of water hitting the beautiful marble floor.
Did I mention the echo in our cavernous post office?
Gabe profoundly says, "uh-oh mommy" and I look down to see his little wet toes peeking out of his sandles as he stands in a puddle the size of, well, a small country. People were passing to and fro giving me that "You're a bad, bad mommy" look. Good thing I only had one child with me or it would have been the "You need to learn how to use birth control, you bad, irresponsable mommy!" look.
There I am standing next to a pee-soaked toddler and nothing to wipe it up with except the books I need to ship off. And, yes, I briefly considered that option...but only for a second.
But, oh! I've got a leftover wad of Quizno's napkins in my glove box for just such an emergency. Instead of leaving Gabe in the post office, which again, I briefly considered (I mean who's going to steal a urine soaked kid, right?) I coaxed Gabe to the front steps for a seat within view of the car.
Have you ever seen a little kid walk when he has pee in his pants? He walks like a cowboy who's been riding all day but with a bit of the Fred-Flinstone-as-he's-twinkle-toeing-down-the bowling-lane.
(Pause and ponder that one)
I rummaged through my car and managed to find a clean pair of underwear, his older brother’s pants and wad of only semi-used napkins. Ah ha! Lucky day! Back in we go to mop up the puddle before someone slips and lands in it. (Then I'd be an "irresponsible, bad, bad, DEFENDANT, mommy")
I strip the poor kid right there in the middle of the post office lobby, cuz, well, my reputation as a mother is already shot anyway. I get him dressed again, continue to put postage on the packages and with all the pride I have left, which isn't saying much, I march back out to my car hoping that I never see any of those people again.