Every week, as we walk into church, the hubs and I have a silent game plan. I go straight to our Sunday School class to get seats and cups of coffee for us. He takes The Little One to the nursery. We started this strategy when we started taking The Short Person to the nursery because I couldn’t bear to leave him crying, as he invariably was. He’s better now, except on the rare occasion, but we’ve kept our strategy just in case. When hubs came in to join me at SS this morning, he leaned over and said, “Bubs may or may not have been stinky when I dropped him off.” I was slightly appalled; as a mother, if there was even a hint of a possibility that my child was the one stinking up the room, I would check to know for sure, and rectify the situation myself. Fathers, however, don’t appear to have the same conviction. I laughed it off and hoped that it wasn’t our son who was causing the stink.
Sunday strategy part two: after SS, I use the restroom while hubs picks up The Little One from nursery and saves a seat in the sanctuary. (We are teaching The Short One to sit through the service. This is a work in progress. Perhaps the topic of another post someday.) When I arrived at the pew this morning, it became apparent to me that whether or not my son had been stinky before, he certainly was now. SO, I took him into the family restroom. The service hadn’t begun yet, so I thought I had plenty of time.
As an aside, I’m very thankful for the nice facility our church provides. Our church is extremely family-friendly, which has been a big blessing to us. In the “family” restroom, there is an ACTUAL changing table; not your typical bolted-to-the-wall variety provided in most public restrooms. There are wipes, Ziploc bags and instructions for sanitation of the changing table after each use. (Another thing our church is well-known for: LOTS of specific instructions.)
I laid my precious cargo on the changing table, only to discover that the stinky was on his cute clothes (another aside: he was finally able to wear his Easter outfit for the first time--- only a month later!)… and YUCK! Being the on-top-of-things prepared mom that I am(tongue-in-cheek, people: PLEASE hear the sarcasm), I fished around in the diaper bag for the outfit I keep in there for just such emergencies. It wasn't anything terribly special or chuch-y, but it was clean. I pulled it out and set it on the changing table next to the Small Fry and went about the business of cleaning him up. Not to be gruesome, but it was a doozy. ‘Nuff said.
If you are the mom of a boy, then you require no explanation for what happened next, but if you don’t have experience with a small boy, allow me to enlighten you. It is a common occurrence for Tiny Boys to urinate at the most inappropriate times. The arc of urine is a sight to behold as it appears to defy gravity and all reason. Once, when my son was probably only two weeks old, I got a shower that makes me shudder to recall. (IN MY HAIR!--- Stresses me out just thinking about it. There is nothing to be done but laugh.) The Little Mister has not had this problem in a LONG time… months, and maybe a year. However, for some reason, today, he did. And.it.went.everywhere.
His body- soaked
His clean clothes- soaked.
The wall- soaked.
The changing table- soaked.
I can thankfully say that it didn’t get on me. Or, if it did, I didn’t realize it, so perplexed was I at the situation. NOW he had no clean clothes! There was no way I was taking him into the sanctuary in nothing more than a diaper. After gasping loudly, I went into action. I had to move the changing table away from the wall to sanitize the wall AND the changing table (for those of you who go to my church and are reading this, I cleaned it very carefully--- took the pad off and cleaned all underneath and between the rails and on the rails… cleaned the pad… I promise! It’s clean now!). I had to clean off my son, and put all of his clothes in a plastic bag.
Next, I had to walk into the foyer and ask the usher (who got quite a chuckle out of the situation--- it was obvious to anyone who saw me what had happened, I’m sure!) to get hubs out of the service (it was ten minutes in at least by now). Hubs said, “Did he not have any clean clothes in the diaper bag?” I told him what had happened and said that The Son and I would wait for him in a SS room. So my beloved son and I had church together--- me in heels and a dress, him in a diaper. J
Hilarious!! Loved reading this.
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