Thursdays are All About Mineral days. He has Occupational Therapy, psychological therapy — and occasionally sees his psychiatrist. I spend a ridiculous amount of time driving him around, which keeps Cousin It from napping (as well as My Masterpiece and ME) and also waiting for him because the appointments are short. But! Then! We got new neighbors. And the neighbors had two teenage girls who could babysit. And I rejoiced upon realizing I could pay one of the teenagers to sit in my house and play on her iPhone while Cousin It and My Masterpiece napped, and I could do a few errands without kids (or with just one kid).
It seemed like a great idea at the time.
Thursday we had an hour break between doctor appointments, and like an idiot, I decided to come home and nurse Cousin It. Because I love her, and I love nursing her, and I’m obviously insane. Cousin It chose that moment not to really want to nurse, because she hates me and hates nursing and she’s obviously insane. However she’d already seen me, so I decided to take her with us.
(The other choice was to leave an inconsolable toddler, who has a slight case of attachment disorder [diagnosed by My Chemical Romance’s sister, who has a bachelor’s degree in psychology, after spending the day with us in San Diego a few months ago] with the teenaged
iPhoner babysitter. And while I’m sure the teenager does a great job playing on her iPhone watching the older kids, I’m not so sure how she’d do with an inconsolable detached Cousin It.)
That seemed like an okay idea at the time.
When we got to the psychiatrist’s office, I realized that I didn’t have a diaper bag with me, and also Cousin It had a giant blueberry poop. If you’ve never seen one, it looks like your baby ate some tar. Another issue: she was wearing a dress, and the diaper was not quite containing everything.
Did I mention that the psychiatrist usually runs at least 20 minutes late, this poop would NOT stay in the sagging diaper and I had no diapers or wipes with me? True story!
I took her to the bathroom to assess the situation… no changing table. Because, OF COURSE THERE WASN’T A CHANGING TABLE. I took off the diaper and began cleaning her off with paper towels and water.
I immediately got a streak of
tar blueberry poop on my shirt.
I still had no diaper with which to cover her.
The blueberry poop was kind of sticky and difficult to clean.
Just when I was about to throw my poop-covered hands in the air and let my baby come to the psychiatrist appointment, bare-assed, I discovered some good news: I had a snappi in my purse!
And also, I’m a MacGuyer mom, and Mineral REALLY NEEDED TO SEE THE PSYCHIATRIST (or maybe I’m just projecting), so this happened
What you can’t see is that she has about 150 mosquito bites on her back and tummy and arms and legs, because we live in North Carolina, about two hours from the ocean and there’s a lot of trees and bugs here.
In the grand scheme of things, this was mostly a huuuuuuuuuge save, because I had no choice — other than nudity — and she didn’t mind it at all, and also she didn’t pee in it and I doubt the snappi even ruined the dress. But really. Really?!?!?! This is my life: putting my mosquito-bite-covered daughter in a pink-and-yellow-dress-turned-cloth-diaper-without-a-cover, while I’m streaked in blueberry poop, and then calmly discussing my son’s issues with a psychiatrist who probably thinks that I’m the reason why Mineral needs medication.