Up-the-back-er.

If you're thinking a post with that title can only end in tears, you'd be right.  The story goes like this (fair warning-it's a novel).  My Mom and I went to Phoenix last week to visit my grandparents.  My grandma is retiring as a kindergarten teacher this year and had us come to get some books and toys from her classroom that she wanted us to have.  While we were sorting through the books (which were like a dream come true to get...everyone is invited to our house to visit our "library" and read kid's books when we move in!) Mikayla starts grunting.  If you know Mikayla, when I say grunting, I mean GRUNTING (the type where I, being a super Mom, worry whether the veins on her bald head are going to burst from all the pressure). As soon as she's done grunting I begin to change what is the most horrendous smelling diaper EVER.  When I'm almost done, I realize that some of the poop has traveled up her back.  Not a rare occurrence around here so I proceed to clean it up.  And then it hits.  I realize that this is not just a normal 'ol up-the-back-er diaper.  The poop was up to her NECK.  How the heck does that happen in a period of 3.4 minutes and how did I not notice it before that point?  Yikes.

I strip her down and then my memory kicks in.  As I was laying in bed the night before I randomly thought "I need to make sure and pack a change of clothes for Mikayla tomorrow".  Being the super Mom that I am, did I jump out of bed and put a change of clothes in the diaper bag?  No.  I then realize I am in BIG trouble.  I am at a school, in Phoenix, with no clothes for my child.  My Grandma then points out that she has a whole toy chest full of dolls and doll clothes and maybe one of the outfits would fit Mikayla.  Now, if Mikayla was still in her 1st percentile/failure to thrive at 6 months stage, then I'm sure any random doll outfit would fit just great, but we are now in the 80th percentile/chunky monkey at 13 months stage.  Luckily for us, there was one random real live baby outfit in there that we could actually fit over Mikayla's 99th percentile sized head.  Forget buttoning it up or the long sleeves actually going past her elbow, but it covered her up in the important places.

She looked like a pioneer/Amish baby gone terribly wrong.  It was HORRIBLE.  The worst part?  We had to go out in public to get lunch.  Now, if we'd gone to see our trusty old friends at Taco Bell I wouldn't have been so embarrassed by the situation, but it had to be a soup and sandwich place.  One of those nice only open 'til 2 kind of places.  Oh well, bring it on.  On go the tennis shoes circa 1987 with the tall white socks.  On goes the polka dot jacket to try and hide the extent of the horribleness.

In the meantime, I go to the bathroom to try and rescue/clean her clothes.  You know those facets that you have to push every 2 seconds to keep the water coming and have zero water pressure?  Ya-those were the type in the bathroom.  Let me just tell you, those do not work for cleaning clothes covered in poop.  You know those sinks that have the drains mostly covered with a metal piece that has tiny little holes to let the water go through?   Well, let me tell you from personal experience that poop does not find its way down the drain very well with those.  Just thought I'd warn you in case you were ever desperate and thought you'd give it a try because of lack of better options.  Don't waste your time.

We get to the restaurant and my Mom gives Mikayla a packet of strawberry jam to play with.  I remember thinking I needed to watch Mikayla so she didn't bite through it.  That's the last I thought about it.  Yep.  Jam.  Red jam.  Everywhere.  Why not?  It added to the outfit, right?  Don't forget the straw wrappers, animal crackers, etc. that were all over Mikayla and the floor.  Mikayla was crabby at that point and fussing.  Every lady in the room on a lunch date with all her friends kept looking at us, including the lady sitting a few tables away with the very well-dressed, complete with matching headband, baby who kept trying to get her baby become friends with Mikayla when I was so desperately trying not to let us be seen.  I was embarrassed.  We were a sight.  What can you do besides just laugh and laugh, though?

*Addendum:  Dustin just reminded me that I missed the cherry on the top part.  I look over when my Mom was holding Mikayla to try and keep her from crying to see that my child's diaper is only covering 1 cheek.  I mean, only kind of covering one cheek.  The whole restaurant could see her butt cheek hanging out since her pioneer dress was all the way up her back due to stickage of the jam.  I didn't know you could get such a bad wedgie from a diaper.  No wonder all the ritzy ladies were staring at us.  My Grandma looks over and says, "I think her new nickname is going to be half moon."  Nice.  Real nice.

We gave Mikayla tangerines straight off the trees (that's what pioneer babies eat, right-home grown food?!) the whole way home.  Just to add to the nastiness of her face.  I wish I would've taken pictures of her with all the nasty jam, etc. on her, but here are a few to document our day.  Admit it-you wish your kids looked as stylin' as my kiddo.

Trust me when I say that these pictures do not even begin to come close to doing justice on the day. :)