Of Making a Mess

After a whirlwind weekend of family and traveling across Nebraska, Philip and I kissed our big kids good-bye for a couple of fun-filled weeks with Gram and Grandy, tucked Joseph into his car seat and departed yesterday afternoon for our road trip home - just the three of us.

Joseph may have been a little surprised to look up to find Mommy sitting next to him in the car rather than the tickles and coos of Big Sissy, but I think he was rather happy about it.  So happy, he filled his pants.

Yes, this guy whose number of diaper blow-outs in his entire life I can probably count on one hand decided to save his juiciest little gift for the middle of Mommy and Daddy's road trip home, when ill-prepared Mommy found herself with NO wipes in the diaper bag.  Not one.  Fortunately, she knew this before toting him off to the bathroom for a change and, having used the restroom prior to discovering his messy self, she also knew this particular bathroom provided no paper towels.  In addition, this most ill-stocked of gas stations ALSO sold nothing even close to a wet wipe.  Aside from the two tiny sides of a square island in the store which specialized in Midol and other such feminine needs, the entire store was filled with nothing more than four aisles of candy bars, donuts, potato chips and soda.  Not so effective in the diaper department.

Thus, I was left with a small handful of napkins pulled from the drink station to wet down at the bathroom sink. Unfortunately, doing the entire job one-handed left me clinching all five napkins together, producing one wet mass that would not be separated.  Thus, after one meager swipe of the soggy napkin ball, I was left with still nothing to cleanse my child from his own yuck.  Nothing, that is, except for one pathetic onesie which I had just pulled over his head due to it's already having been filled with the mess.  And, of course, if you're a Mommy alone in a gas station bathroom with nothing but a wipe-less diaper bag and a onesie already covered in baby poo, what are you going to do but decide that the onesie can't really get much worse than it already is - and, hey, at least it's softer than napkins.

Happy sixth anniversary to us.

I'm telling you, this is a stunt this kid would have never pulled if his siblings had been around.  For months I've been answering comments such as, "He's such a good baby!" with the response, "Well, he knows he has to be - he's the third one!"  Something tells me he's getting a little too cozy with this brief "only child" business.

1,000 Gifts:
522. Curling up with a nursing baby.
523. The soft hairs of his baby faux-hawk.
524. The breeze blowing through our hair during a train ride in the park.
525. The trill of a train whistle and, "Hey, Mr. Conductor, why does the train make that sound?"
526. A walk with a red wagon.
527. Graduation day - the thrill of the next step.
528. Rare time with extended family.
529. Chocolate cake.
530. A roomy backseat.
531. Meandering through the store.
532. Shrimp in its many forms.