Like The World Needs Another Blogger: 12 Days of Christmas

On Christmas Eve we were going to a family thing, but The Husband wanted to go visit with his grandmother in assisted living on the way. She'd been sick, and The Boy had been really sick, so we decided it would be best if he didn't go. We decided The Boy and I would go to the Chick-fil-A near the assisted living and play on the playground to give The Husband a little time with Nanny and keep us from driving two cars. Solid plan, right? Right.

Turns out the playground for that particular Chick-fil-A is not a toddler playground. The Boy enjoyed running in the 5x5 ~~germ infested solitary confinement~~ play yard but he wasn't tall enough to climb up into the playground alone. So, obviously, that meant I had to climb in the playground to help him. Mostly I just helped him hoist himself up between the little levels and I hung out in a tunnel midway in between, chin folded to chest like a flamingo waiting to help. We played and laughed and he ran and peeked out at me, rinse and repeat.

Luckily we had the whole playground to ourselves, what with it being Christmas Eve. I looked out into the Chick-fil-A and there were several families eating dinner, dressed in their Christmas best. I began to reflect on the irony of them in velour dresses with fur trim and me in jeans folded in a tube, but I was interrupted when I started to choke on the smell of a dirty diaper. In a plastic tube with me. And the source of that smell smiled and tackled me as I gagged. It was like a gas chamber in there. We had to get out!!

I began enticing The Boy out, but it's hard to carry a child through a tube you're too big for. We eventually emerged, just as some of the Christmas-clothed-kids were coming in to play. It was a good time for us to make our exit anyway. As we approached the bathroom I was reminded of the large drink I'd had earlier that was also needing to make an exit. I had to pee, and bad. I must've compressed my bladder when I was folded in that tube. Kid. Purse. Diaper bag. Two of those I could hang on the stall door, one I could not. What to do with The Boy? We busted into the bathroom and the situation became urgent. Suddenly I was doing the pee pee dance with a boy with poo poo pants. Yep, this is my life.

The diaper changing station was outside the stall, which would mean I'd have to either pee with the door open or leave him unsupervised (Hello, Amber alert?). Neither of those were viable options, plus, there was no time for that. Listen to me when I tell you there was no alternative. I slung the bags on the back of the door, hiked The Boy higher up on my hip, yanked my pants down, and balanced him on my knees while I hovered over the pot (women don't like for any skin to touch a public pot). This was a full-on aerobic exercise, but it what else was I to do? So, I peed, got my pants back up, gathered our bags, and emerged from the stall victorious. I strapped him in the baby changer and changed him. I also changed his jeans since he spilled milk all over himself. Then the bathroom filled with the sound of "Who that is? That's just my baby daddy," The Husband's ringtone. I answered the phone and he said he was on his way. Good timing.

The Boy and I headed outside. A few minutes later The Husband pulled up and I loaded him in the car seat. Me: How was Nanny?
Husband: Fine. Did y'all have fun? (I closed the back door and walked up to the front).
Me: Yes, but I'm going to get in backwards. Will you tell me if you can see a wet spot on my pants?
Husband: What? Where? Why are your pants wet?
Me: On my butt. Just look when I get in backward casually.
Husband: You peed your pants?
Me: Not really, it was just a tiny drop. Look. Can you see it?
Husband: A little.
Me (buckling up) : Ughh!
Husband: Umm, how is it that you peed yourself?
Me: I didn't really pee myself! He pooped in the playground and it was so stinky and other kids were coming in so I had to take him to the bathroom to change him and then I had to pee really bad because you know I drank that Sprite but I didn't have anything to do with him because if I put him down he would crawl on the floor or eat toilet paper and the diaper changer was far away and I was afraid someone might take him, so I had to hold him while I peed but you know how I don't like to touch the toilet so when I was squatting I guess I sort of peed myself just a little. Merry Christmas!
Husband (raises eyebrows) Merry Christmas.

So, now you know that I peed myself just a little. As for the rest of our Christmas, it was a jam-packed, wonderful, chaotic, whirlwind of family visits, opening presents, and wrestling with cousins. It was the best week of The Boy's life. It was like our own personal 12 days of Christmas. Sing it with me now!

On the 12th day of Christmas my true love gave to me......