A really funny thing happened yesterday. Well, if you ask my husband, it wasn't really funny at all. But that's only because it happened to him. I got to hear the play-by-play, so to me, it was hilarious.
We had a fun day planned this Sunday. We were meeting some friends of ours for breakfast and then taking our babies to the pumpkin patch. The mommies were excited for two reasons: 1. Breakfast is awesome, especially when you don't have to make it or clean it up; 2. The pumpkin patch offers some great Fall photo ops! Despite the fact that it was pretty fucking cold out, we were determined to get some cute shots of our little pumpkins sitting amongst the actual pumpkins because that will be adorable and no one has ever thought of that before, right?
But first, breakfast. Baby Girl can sit up on her own now, so that means we can put her in a high chair at restaurants. And that means I can finally use that fancy high chair/shopping cart cover that I got at my baby shower! It was perfect. Not only is it pretty, but there are a few rattly toys attached to keep her busy while we wait for food and it protects her from having to touch or, god forbid, lick any nasty goo that the last baby left behind from their breakfast. As we are eating, my friend says "Look at her. She is so calm and content at the table." I took a break from my plate full of bacon to glance at her, realizing now that she had stopped babbling for quite some time. "Oh, that's not calm. That's her poop face." Lucky for me, my husband eats like it's his job to be the first one done at the table. And because he's such a gentleman, he knew he was on diaper duty so I could finish my meal.
As he picked her up from her fancy seat cover, the look on his face turned to a combination of panic, disgust, and an immediate regret for scarfing down his food so quickly, as he felt the warm wetness that was all down her leg and now in his hand. "Shit. Hand me her extra clothes." Shit was right. She pooped right through her diaper, onesie, jeans, AND the fancy seat cover! Boy was I glad I still had bacon on my plate. He knew there was no changing station in the bathroom, so he opted to change her in the car to avoid laying her on the bathroom floor.
Hang on. I haven't even gotten to the funny part yet...
The rest of us continued eating our breakfast and chatting, only to realize that Hubby had been gone for over 10 minutes now! I only noticed this when I saw the bottom of my coffee mug. That means I actually got to finish my coffee and that rarely happens. When he finally returned, all he said was "That was not pretty. We should keep plastic bags in the car." And I could tell he did not care to elaborate.
As we walked to our separate cars in the parking lot, PTSD started to set in. "No, really. That was awful. Like, the worst blow out ever," he said with empty eyes. "Oh, come on. You should be used to baby poop by now," I told him. "It got on my face," he said discretely, trying not to let our friends just a few cars away hear him. "What?! How the fuck did you manage that?" I blurted out, which they did probably hear. "She kicked me with a shitty sock," he said both embarrassed and traumatized.
My response: "BAAH HAHAHA! That's hilarious!"
Hubby: "No, it's not."
Me: "This is so going in the blog."
Hubby: "I know."
So we continued on our way to the pumpkin patch with the shitty clothes and seat cover rolled up in a stinky ball in the trunk (because I'll be damned if we are going to miss a cute photo op because of a shitty sock to the face). We did end up getting some great photos. And now, for those of you who have had the pleasure of viewing them on my Facebook page, you now have an explanation as to why my child is wearing an orange shirt with a pumpkin on it with grey sweatpants that have bunnies on the feet. We were much more coordinated than that in the morning, I swear!
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