Yesterday was shaping up to be a really nice day with The Boy. The three of us enjoyed breakfast at the diner. Then, after Musical Daddy left for marching band, we romped around and I got tackled.
The Boy napped for a few hours, allowing me to start laundry, and we walked to the cleaners to drop off some shirts. Since it was already almost 2:00 and we hadn't eaten lunch, we picked up a nice turkey sub from the Quik-E-Mart (it's actually the QuickChek but...you know....).
It was a beautiful day outside, so we ate on the front steps. I handed The Boy some of the bread in the sandwich (it was a half sub, cut in half, and I gave him one side of the half) which had turkey and tomatoes and onions on it, and he sat there like a little gentleman and ate the whole thing, one bite at a time. Which really takes a pretty long time for a little guy
Musical Daddy was taking his band to a competition, and it wasn't that far of a drive, so we decided to go check it out. Their step-off was at 4:30, and by the time I got the idea to maybe get moving, it was 3:15.
And The Boy had a poo that was so huge it had actually leaked out the side of his diaper. I can count on one hand the number of times that has happened with the bumGenius diaper, but there it was.
And we had...no wipes. I used the remaining washcloths sprayed with water but it was quite the production to clean up this poopy mess.
Okay...3:40 and we're out the door. I would have preferred to arrive at 4:00 so that I could see them before the performance but that wasn't going to happen. No gas in the car...okay, got gas and now it's about 3:55. I'm rolling down Route 22 and I completely miss my next turn because I guess I'm auto-piloting to work, even though it's Saturday.
Okay...it's 4:05 and I'm heading in the right direction. Now wait a minute...do I even remember how to get there? 4:20 and I turn into the bus parking lot, only to be told to go all the way around. 4:27 and I make it into the parking lot to see Musical Daddy's old school, where he taught 4 years ago, leaving the field (they have a very distinctive uniform). And I know that they were on before his current group. Go to the back, get the stroller and...I hear some awful gagging noises and, you guessed it, The Boy was revisiting his sandwich from earlier. No warning, no way to grab something and catch it before it was already too late to save the new carseat, and his nice shirt, from getting puke on them.
I cleaned him up and cleaned the carseat as best I could and left his shirt off for a bit, just in case he wasn't done.
Long story longer...the only shirt that I had for him was a T-shirt that says "My Mom Is Hot" (and thank goodness I didn't get messy because I had nothing to change into) which he eventually wore. We did get there in time to watch the band from the fence where the bands enter and to meet them afterwards.
After having cleaned up poo with no wipes and puke with only a towel and a wipe, and rushing to get there to see the band, with my hair in a do-rag that I had meant to remove after arriving because it was only there to keep my crazy hair under control...the last thing that I felt like was a hot mom. The Boy's shirt lied.