Coiffed Mama, White Trash Baby

I've been meaning to post this doozy for about two weeks now. It has taken me that long to get past my chagrin about the whole incident. As you read this, please keep in mind that I take the baby to work with me. I work in a legislative office. In a professional office building. With lots and lots and lots of people who wear suits and ties

It all started two Mondays ago at 10:55am. Zane was happily sitting in the bouncy seat atop my desk, having finished nursing at 10:30am, and I was primping girly before lunch with friends at 11:30am. Just as I was applying my lip liner, I heard the unmistakeable sound of loud squirting emanating from my darling son's hiney. Zane was all smiles and giggles as I asked him, "was that your hiney talking, baby?" He laughed, and looked at me coyly as if to tell me he had a secret...No biggie, I thought. He is fairly regular, and anyway I always change him just before we leave for lunch. I continued applying lip liner, then lip gloss, then powder to my nose, and I brushed my hair.

Makeup applied, I readied the changing pad, grabbed the box of wipes, a diaper and the A&D ointment. Then I picked up the baby. Wetness. Oh no... It's yellow. Oh NO!! He exploded. Oh s**t!!! (no pun intended, there) It's even on the bouncy seat. Fabulous.

As I laid him down on the changing pad, it became clear to me that I would have to work fast to prevent a mess on the lower half from becoming a mess all over the giggling, smiling, squirming baby. And, more importantly, all over my lovely (and new) light beige linen skirt and light-blue linen blouse.

Because I am the Worst.Mama.Ever., my skirt and blouse made it through the ordeal completely unscathed.

Zane was not so lucky.

By the time I finished changing his diaper, poo covered the light-blue changing pad cover and his socks, his pants, and his white "I Love Mommy" onesie. He also managed to push his little feet into the poo spots on the changing pad cover, and then "find his feet" with his hands. Sigh. That was all him. I managed to get poo on his forehead and in his hair despite carefully rolling the onesie as I pulled it over his fuzzy little head. Double sigh.

Time for a quick washdown in the bathroom sink. Clean baby, crisis averted. For five seconds. It was then that I realized - slowly - I had no change of clothes for my baby. So THAT'S why the child care center requires three complete changes of clothing, including socks. Uh huh.

Want to go ahead and give me the trophy for May?? Just wait. It gets better.

So, there I was: clean baby clad in only a diaper, a pile of soiled laundry, and a pending lunch date with friends. A good mama would have beat a hasty retreat down the stairwell, walked quickly to the car and driven straight home to throw the laundry in the wash and clothe the baby.

Not me. I am lazy, I was hungry and I had just re-applied my lipstick.

I carried Zane - clad in only a diaper, remember - to the elevator. We boarded the lift and stopped on every floor to take on passengers on our way to the ground level. Zane giggled and smiled the whole way, thus drawing attention to our (well, HIS) disheveled state. I didn't even avoid the shocked faces. Had anyone actually said anything to me, I would have tartly replied, "I'm the Mama, and I have exactly one hour to eat lunch and get back to my office so that I can feed my baby right on time. So there." I might have left out the "so there," but I was STARVING.

Arriving at the car, I "swaddled" Zane in a blanket from the diaper bag. He would sit in his car seat during lunch anyway, so why bother going home first to put him in clothes? Because he didn't WANT to sit in his car seat during lunch. That's why. Whatever. We had a corner table, out of the view of most of the other diners. Not that it would have mattered much at that point anyway. The damage was done. My child was out in public, wearing only a diaper. Nice.

Two weeks hence I can't believe my brazenness; but I still don't have a complete change of baby clothes - including socks - at my office.