My Life Flashed Before My Eyes

It all started in the carpool line, around 255pm.  There was a funk that wafted to the front seat of the massive SUV and  grabbed me by the face and shook me like a rag doll.  A funk that has never been known by any man, which is saying a lot for a woman who lives near a dump.  I shrugged it off as nasty from outside, not unheard of, as an emission from Sam’s tiny butt or my nose was on the fritz again and I needed to have it looked at.  Basically,  I chose to ignore it, because THERE IS NO STOPPING IN CARPOOL LINE, even if your arm happens to fall off and you are squirting blood from a major vein. 

We pick up Amber and she informs me of her misbehavior at school which resulted in the dreaded Yellow Slip.  The Slip that no child wants, well no child of mine.  A Slip that tells the world your child is a deviant and should be locked away.  So we go through the whole lecture of how one is suppose to act at school and listen to the teacher and blah, blah, blah….Then there is a pitiful scream from the baby.  Of course not to be out done, Sam starts in.  No one can scream as loud of Sam and he must hold onto his title of CHILD WHO CAN MAKE A MOTHER WANT TO FLING HIM FROM A MOVING CAR.  This goes on for most of the trip and I am feeling really bad that this poor innocent baby must be subjected to this crazy train I call OUR EVERYDAY LIFE.  I have forgotten the smell.

Until I hit the red light where the screaming begins, again, because MY GOD HOW DARE I STOP A MOVING VEHICLE AND CAUSE DISCOMFORT TO THE LITTLE LUMPS IN THE SECOND ROW.  The smell hits me like a sledgehammer and I go back to asking, is it the dump that smells so bad, because that can not possibly be coming from a human.  I sing LALALALA in my head and hope that I can make it home without succombing to the hideous odor.

We pull into the garage and I start unloading the passengers.  First, there is Sammy, who must be carried to the door, because he has removed his shoes and socks.  That boy is a genius; a genius at making a simple act more time consuming than anyone could have imagined.  Then comes the baby.  I cradle her in my arm….wait…what is that wetness I feel?  HOLY SHIT, SHE HAS SHIT ALL OVER HERSELF.  I go to Defcom 5 and start the decontamination process.  I rip off her onesie and quickly assess the damage.  There is no way that wipes are going to do, must go to Defcom 6. BATHTIME FOR FUNKY BABY.  I run upstairs with the baby at arm’s length.  I don’t like my own kid’s shit on me, do you think I want another person’s baby, as much as I love her, on me? 

Water is flying, towels are falling, soap is being doused and baby is screaming.  I am sure she was not happy with the accomdations of the bathroom sink, but I thought the bathtub was too big and the toilet, however, appropriate it might seem at the time was not an option.  So in the cramped sink she went.  Finally, little Sun emerged sparkling like a shiny new diamond.  She still wasn’t happy, but there was no time to waste.  I had to disinfect the carseat, give Amber a bath, make sure Sam didn’t kill Sun with his sweet offer of a hardcover book for her to read while laying in his crib and then get them all ready to go to dance class. 

All of this took place within an hour and a half.  All day I sit on the sofa with my laptop and watch TV with Sam and Sun on Wednesdays, because what else are we going to do, have discussions on the Mid East conflict?  We laugh, eat, talk, and play throughout the day and I saw it as a way to relive those infant days of sitting on my evergrowing ass all day.  Somehow I forgot about the massive dumps these little beings are capable of and the high pitched screams that they can emit when not being tended to their want RIGHT THIS MINUTE.  Oh yes, I forgot all about the joys of infant care.  That damn, Momnesia gets me everytime.