And Who Says Being A Mom Isn't Exciting?

Happy Friday, everyone! I'm not sure why this story came to my mind recently, but I thought I'd share it with you...

This happened before I was blogging, or you can be sure I would have told it right away! It's one of those "I can't believe that just happened" kind of things.

Thomas was about 2 months old, so it was November last year. I took the kids to the health department for their flu vaccinations because I wanted to do the "flu mist" instead of the shot, and our doc's office only did the shot. Normally, taking four children ages 2 months, 2 years, 4 years, and 5 years old would definitely be something I'd do WITH my hubby. I don't remember why he couldn't be there that day...and I have no idea what I was thinking doing it by myself.

Sometimes I like to think of myself as Super Mom. "Hey, these are my children, there's no reason I can't take care of them all by my Super Mom self!" These episodes of extreme confidence and nerve are usually quickly followed by me throwing myself on my bed and crying until my eyes puff up for the next two days. Anyhoo...

So we were all in the waiting room, patiently waiting our turn. They had a fun little play center there for the kids, and Thomas was being his sleepy little 2 month old self. Life was easy. It was easy for 5 minutes at least. And then Sammy got that look on her face. You know the look...the look that is evidence that I will be changing an unpleasant diaper sometime in the very near future.

I wanted my few moments of peace to last a bit longer, so I looked away and pretended that I didn't see THE FACE. Maybe if I could just ignore her, we could get out of here and home before I actually had to change her. Or maybe it would just go away...maybe it was a false alarm? Hey, a mom can hope.

But "the face" moment was soon followed by my oldest child using his favorite word, "Oh, VOMITROTIOUS. Mo-ooom...you have to change Sammy NOW!"

I wasn't about to leave my kids in the waiting room while I changed a diaper, so I dragged myself and all 4 kids into the bathroom with me. Luckily, the bathroom was roughly the size of a postage stamp, so we fit just fine.

I started to dig through the diaper bag for the necessary stuff...changing pad, check...wipes, check...diaper...diaper...diaper...please Lord, a size 6 diaper...no that's a size 2...diaper...diaper?! DIAPER?! No diaper for Sammy. Only about 15 size two diapers.

Okay, this calls for some creativity. The poor child stunk to high heaven, so she had to be changed. It could not wait until we got home. My plan was to take of the diaper, shake off the smelly lump in her diaper, clean her and the diaper to the best of my ability, and then strap the diaper back on her until we got home and I could do it properly.

So I got her up on the changing table, got the pants off, got the diaper off...and uh-oh. There's no lump. There will be no shaking this gooey mess into the toilet and getting on with life. The diaper was a total loss, and oh so smelly.

It was really helpful when Ben, discovering the amazing echo resulting in screeching "VOMITROTIOUS!" at the top of his lungs, decided to do so repeatedly. My ears still ring.

Got Ben quieted down.
Got the offensive diaper sealed in a garbage bag and thrown away.
Decided to squeeze Sammy's size 6 hiney into a size 2 diaper.... squeeze.... squirm... grunt... groan...sweat...whimper. It's no use. Ain't gonna happen.

WHAT am I going to do?! I certainly wasn't going to let her go without a diaper. She hadn't even begun potty training, and after the diaper I just threw out - there was no way I was going to risk one of those without a diaper in place!

And...have I told you that I have a degree in engineering? I'm pretty sure that my superior problem solving and design skills were all meant for that very moment in time. Never mind the high tech world...it's all about the poopy diapers.

So, I looked at my sweet and ever-helpful Clara (then 4), and said, "Clara, sweetie, let me have your undies."

"My undies?"

"Yes, your undies."

"But why?"

"I need them for Sammy."

"But...no! They're my princess undies!"

"Clara, I really need them."

"But what about me? What will I wear?"

"You'll wear your pants. With no undies."

"I will?!?"

By this time, Ben was giggling hysterically in the background.

"Ben, would you like to donate your undies here?"

Instant...and I mean INSTANT silence from the boy.

So Clara, bless her little heart, took off her precious princess undies and handed them over. I put them on Sammy, stuffed a size 2 diaper in there like a giant, ill fitting maxi pad...and we were off!

We got out of the bathroom in just enough time for them to call our name, and no one was wise to what was going on... My Sammy with a maxi pad, and my Clara going commando.

When we finally got back to the office for the immunizations, the nurse was concerned that they'd never had the Flu Mist version before, especially with Sammy being so young. She wanted to give her, and maybe Clara too the shot instead of the Flu Mist.

"All we'll have to do is pull their pants down a bit, and poke them in the thigh."

"Um, no. We will be doing the Flu Mist. There will be no pulling down of pants and no shots. Really...I think it's in everyone's best interest."

I was ready to fight to the death. Ben had started giggling into his hand again...but a swift look out of the corner of my eye let him know that his life was on the line, and he quieted again.

Everyone got the Flu Mist that day.

We finally got home, got Samantha into a proper diaper, got Clara a clean pair of undies...and Super Mom had a good laugh...and then a cry...and then another laugh.

Next time Daddy's coming with us. Maybe he can donate HIS undies...