"Raising a kid is part joy and part guerrilla warfare."
~Ed Asner

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

I'm Going To Hold It.

Twenty minutes from Lansing, Izzie had to go to the bathroom.  She said she had to go about two minutes after we passed a rest stop, which meant she would already be soiled (does anyone even say that anymore) before we reached the next rest stop.  There were some restaurants to choose from but we were in the middle of some wonderful construction that had some exits closed or rerouted.  Izzie still had her pull up on from her nap and I told her it was okay to go potty in her pull up if she couldn't hold it.  "Uh-uh.  I don't want to."  Okay...I asked her if she could hold it while Momma looked for a place to stop.  She crossed her legs and a look of concentration spread across her face.  I really thought she would end up going in her pull up.  Then she started getting upset saying, "Momma, it's coming!  I'm going!"  I thought she went and said it was okay.  I was still looking for a place to stop and Izzie was still uncomfortable and twisting her little body.  I thought maybe she still had to go more.  I was starting to consider pulling over on the side of the road.  Oh, wait I couldn't because there was a huge cinder block wall and orange cones in my way.  Izzie started half-crying. (You know when you're just starting to cry but you don't have any tears yet and you're not really crying but will be momentarily...)  She said her tummy hurt and she really, really had to go potty.  Oh, I felt so bad for her.  From a woman's perspective I knew exactly how she felt.  I don't think Izzie has ever held her pee before and let me tell you that it can take it's toll on you psychologically and physically.  Plus Izzie was a newbie and didn't want to let anyone or herself down by peeing in her pants.  Oh, the torment.  My poor baby had to go. 

I got off at a Lansing exit and pulled into a McDonald's.  I carried Noah while Izzie held my hand and awkwardly scurried into the restroom.  Even though I was grateful to stop at a restaurant as opposed to a rest stop, I still came armed with my Lysol wipes.  Both the stalls were empty and we used the handicap one.  At the moment I considered my two, squirmy little children, one of whom was trying to escape, my handicap.  I sanitized the seat and every surface surrounding us and plopped Izzie on the toilet.  Because she's so itty-bitty and toilets are ridiculously huge for her, I have to hold her just right so she can pee in the toilet but also not feel like she's going to fall in.  She peed for about a minute, seriously folks, while Noah tried his best to unlock the door.  I had just pulled Izzie's pants up when Noah realized he could probably fit under the stall.  His escape plan was foiled in the nick of time as I grabbed onto the back of his jacket.  Oh, and get this...Before Izzie sat on the toilet she was dry as a bone.  I was so proud of her.  We high-fived and fist bumped and she said, "My tummy feels better."  Oh, good.

Since we were already in McDonald's and Izzie was starviiiiiing, we had a bite to eat.  I'm not a fan of fast food, but french fries once in awhile for the babies won't kill them.  The germs on the restroom floor might.  We were sitting in a booth enjoying ourselves when I suddenly realized that Noah was soaked completely through his pants!  I told Izzie to hurry and finish eating her french fries because we needed to change Noah's diaper.  There was an older couple sitting across from us and I could feel them giving me a look.  No, they really were giving me a look.  I could feel one of them saying, "Children should chew their food slowly.  Don't rush her."   Yah, well I also teach my kids to eat with their mouth open and talk with their mouth full.  Izzie finished her french fries and I proceeded to pick Noah up in a football hold and carry him out.  I mean the kid was beyond soaked.  Again, I felt the look of the older couple as I walked out.  "Children are not footballs."  Wanna bet...My son can propel himself in the air and bounce off a wall like it's a soft, fluffy pillow.  We got to the van and after tossing the kids up front, I rummaged through the suitcase in the back and found a pair of jeans for Noah to wear.  I went to grab a diaper and discovered that I had left them at my parents, fail. That's okay, I thought.  I have one in my purse.  Nope, I used that one on Sunday in church, fail.  I left the pull ups at my parents house as well.  I had nothing to protect my babies cute, chunky bottom. 

I was about an hour and a half from home and after taking Noah's ten pound diaper off, I dried him up well and put the jeans on him.  I know...jeans.  That's all I had.  Have you ever gone commando in jeans?  He didn't give me any funny looks or look like he was uncomfortable so I figured we were good.  I went to put him in his seat and upon further investigation, I discovered that his seat was wet...very wet.  That meant he soaked through his pants before we went into the restaurant.  I sat Noah on the counter by the register when I paid for the food.  While I was filling Izzie's drinks and getting napkins and ketchup, Noah had to climb up and sit in every seat.  Then he sat in a booth.  I really hope the McDonald's staff did their job well that night and wiped everything down.  And for the people who may have sat in one of the seats Noah was in, well, there's nothing I can do about that.  But at least he was only wet.  Once we were on our way again, it occurred to me that I could have put a pair of Izzie's panties on Noah but I don't know how he or Izzie would have felt about that.  I also didn't relish the idea of Izzie telling people that Noah was wearing her panties.

The End

My eye won't stop twitching...

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