The long awaited post about pee

At my own blog I heralded the writing of this post almost a week ago. But what can I say, sometimes my errors in parenting judgment make me cringe to type them, even here among the worst mamas. It doesn't help that Karen has been racking up points for what actually amounts to good parenting. Although the gambling/bookie thing did redeem her somewhat in my eyes.

Last Friday night Ben had a make-up t-ball game. We decided to all go as a family and then go to dinner afterwards. He was running around in his t-ball shirt for about thirty minutes prior to time to leave, but without pants. When it was time to go, we instructed him to use the bathroom and come get his pants on. When he did, we realized he had peed all over his long shirt. "Crap" I said to The Man. "Well, he's got to wear it anyway. We don't have another shirt."

"Okay", shrugged The Man and proceeded to tuck the wet "Cubs" shirt into his white pants, cringing a bit as he did it. Little did I know that this would be the more mild of the urine related incidents of the night.

After the game we headed out for Mexican and then decided to stop by Lowes for some things The Man needed, some apparently worthless weed killer, and some new play sand for the kids. As I was taking Clara out of her carseat to put her in the cart I noticed her dress was a little wet. I thought she must have spilled some of her milk from dinner on herself.

Stupid, stupid me.

Well as anyone married to a man would know, there is no such thing as a quick trip to the local hardware store. Forty-five minutes later, I was watching the man debate an employee on the merits of certain kind of self-tapping screws. And well, the natives were getting restless. Clara, in particular was moments away from a complete meltdown. So I decided to take her out and let her walk for a bit while Shane finished his discussion. As I picked her up I noticed she was soaking wet. Pee running down her legs, pooled in the seat of the cart and dripping all over the items in the cart below her. Playsand (fortunately in plastic bags), the darn self-tapping screws, and weed killer alike.

Doing what any worst mama would do, I had an immediate adverse reaction to the fact that I had just coated myself in urine and plopped my sodden princess right back in the seat in her cart. She started screaming and I scrambled in my purse for something to sop up the mess. I found some kleenex and a couple of babywipes. I started trying, uselessly to mop up the items we were going to buy. Giving up, I walked up to The Man, and said

"We need to leave. Now."

As I was explaining the situation, he noticed a trail of urine dripping onto the floor. Quickly grabbing Ben's spare underwear (which for some inexplicable reason I had in my bag, but not another diaper) he wiped it up and we practically ran for the register. Fortunately the sand was so heavy (200 lbs) that the check-out boy scanned it without touching it, but we did put the weed-killer and screws on the counter. When we put them back in our cart The Man and I both noticed distinct wet streaks left behind. We flew out of the store with our purchases.

Once at the van I pulled out the emergency supplies and got Clara cleaned up and changed. We put the purchases on some towels and wiped down the cart as best we could. Then we left. But, I just can't get it out of my head that we actually made the check-out boy, unknowingly touch Clara's urine. Because I couldn't bring myself to mutter the words "Don't touch that, my daughter peed on it."

Ignorance really is bliss.