In my defense, the morning didn’t have an ideal start.
I didn’t work out, and I forgot to turn on the crockpot to heat the homemade chili I concocted for a work chili cookoff. I was off my game from the get-go. We never stood a chance.
On the way to Monster’s doctor’s appointment, I realized I had forgotten the diaper bag. As I peered into the rearview mirror and saw my smiling, babbling 15-month-old, I thought to myself, “He’ll be at daycare in 45 minutes. I’m sure it’s no big deal.”
Just minutes later, that very thought ended up competing in my brain with the unmistakeable sound of a nasty, not-solid diaper in the throes of creation.
The nurse said, “OK, just strip him down to his diaper and socks so we can weigh him.”
“Oh no, nurse, I’m afraid we have a situation.”
As I red-faced explained that I was a hot mess that morning and left the diaper bag at home, the nurse smiled warmly and took my naked-except-for-baby-socks son to the scale.
Monster loves being naked. He was all smiles, very proud of his teeny manhood as he ran around the office, stopping only to smily sweetly at nurses as they walked by our room.
The doctor checked Monster from head to toe, noting that he is, indeed, a Monster (topping the charts in height and weight) who is developing quite well.
I knew the time for his shots was approaching, so I asked the doctor if I could run to my car to look for a diaper, and would she please watch my son, who was at the moment pushing the stool-on-wheels around the room?
She obliged and apologized that – though they had repeatedly discussed it – the office was not stocked with diapers.
I dug through my car, knowing full well that I never had the good sense to put extra diapers and wipes in the trunk. I hung my head and walked back into the office, where I could hear the doctor saying, “Just don’t pee on me!” I entered the room to see Monster straddling one of the doctor’s legs with his naked bottom and bits and pieces.
I closed my eyes for a moment and said a quick prayer that I was able to effectively clean his bottom with the paper towels from the office bathroom.
When I opened my eyes, I saw that next to my purse was a tied plastic bag.
“Sorry – it’s going to be a really long day if we leave that diaper sitting in that trash can,” the doctor explained. Was I to take the diaper with me? I did not understand, but I was too ashamed to ask.
After Monster was vaccinated and ready to go, the nurse asked, “Would you like a chux pad?”
A chux pad is a few feet long, a few feet wide and typically used in the beds of the elderly who cannot make it to the bathroom. Why the pediatrician had a chux pad and not a diaper, I do not know.
I folded the pad and put it between Monster’s legs before pulling up his pants. Confused, Monster pulled and tugged at the 6 inches of extra padding coming out the front and back of his pants. Shaking my head, I grapped my purse and the dirty diaper and beckoned Monster to follow me into the waiting room and eventually out the door, where no one else would know about the mother who can’t remember to bring diapers and forces her son to wear a chux pad.
Monster fidgeted and tugged along behind me until he heard voices coming from the waiting room. He stopped just shy of the entry way and peered his little head around the door frame to see a 4-year-old boy with his mother and sister.
Monster loves big boys. Adores them. He will watch big boys run and jump with such admiration that it makes me almost wish away a few years so he could run and jump with them.
Today was not the day for Monster to run into a big boy. The boy looked at Monster and smiled, and Monster – still hiding this chux-padded bottom in the hallway – started back pedaling, keeping his gaze locked on the little boy.
If you haven’t yet been the source of your child’s embarassment, let me attempt to describe it to you: it sucks. That’s all. It just sucks.
I chased after Monster, picked him up and ran for the door.
To my dear, sweet Monster, who braved the hell that was that morning with the attitude only my little Monster could have: I’m sorry. And I’m even more sorry that I am certain that this will not be the only time I will bring you shame. After all, years of mother-son dances lie ahead, and we all know your momma can’t drop it like it’s hot.