You know what else is nice? When people want to buy your lovely home. Or, I imagine it is nice. I have yet to experience it, but I bet it feels like rainbows and unicorns and success all rolled into a giant happiness-filled burrito.
So we're out of the house and we have to stay out past Olivia's bedtime. Which, you know. You already know. I won't make you want to stab your eyes out with further description of the obvious horror of the situation.
Truth be told, I was feeling pretty good about the situation. We were eating at Applebee's (because we are super fancy) and everyone was just generally adoring our
Until Olivia starts grunting.
And at first I'm all, oh that's funny she's grunting.
Then her face turns red and her entire area smells like a cow pasture.
Oh noes. She pooped right here in this very Applebee's. That is not fancy at all. And I'm pretty sure we were dealing with The Smelliest Diaper Ever Soiled.
I realize that public poop in itself is not a crisis. I did bring a diaper bag, so all was not lost. And, there was one of those super sanitary koala changing stations so clearly I lead a charmed life.
I try to pull out a paper cover from the dispenser, but it's crammed so full that I can't get one and keep ripping tiny chunks. So I take the cloth changing pad out of my diaper bag and prepare to super mom the shit out of The Smelliest Diaper Ever Soiled.
Oh, my friends. FAIL. Colossally.
I'm telling you, this child has not shit up her back since she was 2 months old. Until today. There was shit everywhere. And of course Olivia is completely tired and hyper and rolling all over the place with her shitty back and her shitty shirt and her shitty shitty bang bang oh-my-god-i-am-going-to-die-at-an-Applebees.
I wouldn't be surprised if someone recorded me in the restroom and posted it on You Tube because I? I don't even know what I was saying. Probably something along the lines of "shitty shitty bang bang" in a high-pitched freaking out voice.
I bet that you already guessed that I only had 4 wipes in my diaper bag, and that the wrapper was partially open so they were completely dry. And that I had to carry a bare-assed toddler out in front of me to get paper towels in order to finish the job. And that I had poop in my fingernails and got everything around me wet trying to hold Olivia while I washed my hands. AND that I stress ate about 4000 more calories afterwards.
And our house is still for sale.