The Not-So-Fabulous Easter
This is contributed by the one and only Hot Mama.
As much as I’d like to believe I am an Uber Mom, the cosmos seems determined to make sure I never forget that I’m NOT. Here is my Not-So-Fabulous Easter Story.
Rookie Dad had to work today (even though he requested Easter off…but that’s a different blog altogether). Last Easter the Kid was still sleeping through church, so it was much easier to attend and actually sit through the entire sermon. This year I was determined to make it to the Sunrise Service, at the ungodly hour of 7:00am, but I figured it would be the service the Kid would most likely sit through. He would still be sleepy from being woken up so early, so I could give him a bottle and a squeezable yogurt and he’d be happy through Communion at least. Wishful thinking…
At 8:47, I awoke to the sound of the baby monitor….Apparently alarm clocks only work when they’re turned on the night before. Guess that means I won’t be making it to the 8:30 service either…Oh well, we’ll have a nice, homemade Easter Breakfast and hit up the 10:30 service instead. I showered the night before to cut down on the time needed to get ready for church, so all I had to do was get myself and the Kid fed and dressed. Easy, right?
At the door to the nursery, I was almost bowled over by a strong odor that resembled a Western Kansas Feedlot. It has been many moons since the Kid had a diaper blowout, but of course today was the day. I ran into the bathroom to start a bath, stripped him down, and plopped him in the water. Quite possibly the most frantic bath on record, full of splashing and a wild tantrum when I wouldn’t get out the bath crayons. Doesn’t this kid understand we’re on a deadline? I got him out of the bath and dried off, but realized the cloth diapers I had washed the night before were still sitting on the couch, waiting to be put away. I put the Kid down for just a few seconds to go retrieve a clean diaper, but it was too late: he had wriggled free from the towel. This led to several laps of Naked Baby Chasing around the couch. But eventually I caught him and wrestled him into his diaper. 9:20
Having learned early on that you wait until the last possible second to put a kid in dress clothes, I wisely forced a tshirt over his head and put him, giggling, into his highchair. Forget the homemade breakfast, I just want to get this kid fed. I put half a banana and the aforementioned squeezable yogurt on his tray and rushed to strip the sheets from the crib and put them in the wash. 9:30
Apparently that 15 seconds was all the kid needed…Instead of squeezing the yogurt into his mouth, he decided to massage his scalp with Eau de Blueberry. Lovely. Refusing to give him his second bath in 20 minutes, I grabbed a wet washcloth and tried to wipe the yogurt from his head. this technique was only moderately effective in removal, but extremely well-suited for giving his hair that crispy, gelled appearance so favored by 90s Boy Bands. 9:40
I unbuckled the Kid from his highchair and took him into the nursery to get changed. I had painstakingly ironed his miniature button-down shirt the night before in preparation for a quick departure. Into the shirt he went, followed by slacks, sweater vest, socks, and shoes. Finally, my luck was changing! 9:45
I popped a Baby Einstein DVD into the tv in the master bedroom and like a whirlwind started to get dressed. Hot rollers on: check. Skirt zipped: check. Brush teeth: check. Shoes…shoes…where are my brown pumps?? Argh, a small little man must have hid them (his new favorite past time). No worries, I’ll wear my brown flats. Not quite as elegant, but much better traction for chasing an 18 month old down a church aisle. 10:12.
“We can make it…we can make it…” I chant to myself. I can’t find a single pair of hose that doesn’t have holes in the toes. Forget it, I’ll skip hose today. Earrings: check. Glasses: check. Keys…keys…where are my keys?? 10:18.
Where are my keys?? I go into the living room, searching couch cushions and coffee table drawers. I hear giggling coming from our bedroom–must be the part with the dragons, those always make him laugh. 10:20
Where are my *#(@ keys??? More giggling in the other room. We can still make it…barely. 10:22
Eureka! I found them shoved out of sight next to the coffee maker. 10:27. We can still make it. We only live 3 miles from the church…so we’ll miss the opening hymn. No big deal. More giggling coming from the bedroom. I rush in to swoop up the kid and get him into the car, and stop dead in my tracks.
The Kid. Covered head to toe. In the perfume I bought in Paris years ago. Needless to say, we didn’t make it to church this Easter Sunday. I hope God is forgiving to Moms.
Posted on April 9, 2012, in Parenting and tagged Baby, Child, Children, Dad, Daddy, Diaper, Easter, Family, father, Fatherhood, Fathers, home, Life, mom, mommy, Mother, motherhood, Parent, parenthood, parenting, Toddler. Bookmark the permalink. 5 Comments.