Wednesday, June 26, 2013

The Glamorous Life

You know how celebrities are always photographed with their kids looking all stylish and confident and put together? 
This is what you get when you Google "celebrities with kids"

I sometimes wonder if people were to take pictures of me out and about with my kids how much of a hot mess I would look like. 

Here's a snapshot for you.

Last week we met Jason's college buddy and his family at a Detroit Tigers game and, while the entire day was completely chaotic {8 hours in the car, no naps, trying to find parking in Detroit, which at one point involved Jason bending a street sign just enough for his friend to squeak his van past it to drive on the sidewalk and get out of his parking spot, and walking a total of I-don't-know-how-many-miles}, this special moment really stands out to me:

I went to change Milo's diaper in the pristine public restroom at the ballpark and discovered that his whole outfit was wet. So, being the uber-prepared parent that I am, I changed his shirt and...couldn't find the extra pants I packed. Doubting my memory, I put the wet pants back on {nice, right?}, packed up the diaper bag, turned to leave and then, "WAIT! I know those pants are in here!" So I literally emptied the entire contents of my bag on the changing table and discovered them at the very bottom. {I like moments when I can actually trust my brain} So, change numero dos occurred. No more wet pants.

I then decided to feed him in the bathroom since I didn't feel like discreetly {not my forte} nursing next to the guy double fisting it in the seat to my left. After a slightly clumsy nursing sesh, baby boy proceeded to spit up all over me, himself, and his freshly-changed clothes. Awesome. SO, back to the changing table we went because, amazingly, I had another clean shirt for him to wear. Not amazingly, I had no more pant options, so homeboy left that beauty of a scene with soaked pants anyway. 

The clean half of my family + friends.
Pretty sure he just heard us say,
"He's DEFINITELY gonna sleep on the way home."
If you made it through that whole story and want more:

Yesterday Milo had a few hour stretch of ultra-fun, high decibel f-r-e-a-k-o-u-t-s, which I'm certain could be chalked up to gas, but the only thing that would calm him down was to feed him, which in turn contributed more gas to the problem. You see the vicious cycle, I'm sure. So, after I finally got him to fall asleep {via my expert method of letting him get so worked up that he exhausts himself into slumber}, I "let" him nap on me while I also shut my eyes for about 15 minutes. 15 glorious minutes of peace. He then woke up in a very grunty state, so I continued to try and get the gas out. There was much patting of the back, pumping of the legs, rubbing of the belly, etc. He was sitting between my legs on our bed when he let out a big grunt and expelled the problem {you follow? Sorry for this...}. Unfortunately, the problem came up out of the back of his diaper, down MY pants and onto our freshly-washed white sheets. Dirty mess=Happy baby. I'll take it.

It should say "I didn't poop on Grandma"
Nothin' but glam round here.
I think my point is I'm glad I don't have paparazzi catching these moments. They live vividly enough in my head.

Maybe next time I'm trying to get Milo to sleep, I'll read him this post...