My moment or moments happened today. Em stayed home with an earache and Little One continued to have a runny nose. Soph actually made it to school since she was already on antibiotics! I hurried around wrapping up the last of my packages. I listened as they announced today as the busiest day for the Post Office on the news. I ignored it and hoped our post office would be void of last minute mailers. I was shipping off not only Christmas but baby gifts and "just because" gifts that I should have done a month ago but didn't. I ended up with 3 large padded envelopes, 1 small shoebox, and 1 large box.
I rushed to pick up Soph from school a little early so I could get the other two into town to the doctor. We had time to stop at the Post Office. The parking lot didn't seem too bad, so I unloaded the car gave packages to Em and Soph, grabbed the baby and in we went. The line was to the door and the do it yourself postage machine had several people waiting. Well, I choose the do it yourself line. Immediately my nose picked up a distinct, but familiar smell. *For those of you whose lives do not revolve around dirty diapers and are offended by such talk you should stop reading now* I quickly checked Little One's britches and yes she had a dirty diaper. I had been waiting for this poopy, I knew it was coming, but she has an amazing knack to do this at the very worst time. I wasn't getting out of line and hoped no one noticed the stink or worse thought it was me!
Finally, it was our turn. A very nicely dressed Postal worker stood at the machine and offered to help. Well, yes, I would love an extra hand or two or seven. So between him, my two little elves and myself we got our packages mailed lickity split. I even bought stamps! I'm not sure how much it all cost, but we won't think about that. So we thanked the nice man and headed out.
"Uh, Mom look at her pants."
Yep, sure enough, Little One's diaper had leaked all over her pants. Carefully, I carried her out to the car. Sitting in the passenger seat I spread a blanket out on my lap. The parking lot was too crowded for me to stand with the door open, plus I realized I didn't have any wet ones. Yes, I had remembered a change of clothes, but I had failed to check and see if I had wipies. So with screaming baby on lap I barked orders to Em and Soph to find tissue, napkins, paper towels, anything to clean up their little sister. Finally, armed with Kleenexes, I was able to wipe Little One up enough to put on a new diaper and pants. I figured I could get her good and clean at the doc's office. Then I had to sit there and nurse her, the ordeal had taken it's toll on the two of us.
And as I nursed I remembered a time about 8 months ago when we cheered and did the poopy dance when Little One would finally have a dirty diaper. She wasn't gaining weight, she actually lost some, and seemed unable to have a poopy. She would go for a week and then finally it would come. I would be so happy I could cry and the girls would dance with joy. I would even call my parents to share the good news. Yes, it was that dire of a situation. So it's no wonder that when she has one now she smiles with delight and she must surely wonder why the dancing and the smiling and the praise has stopped. So as she nursed I whispered, "You did it. Good job!" After all, I don't want her developing some sort of complex:)