Poor baby Ainslie. She has teething troubles. And, after her last bout of teething when her bottom teeth came in, we quickly realized that she gets hit hard. And as those top teeth try to cut through, this time has been no easier, or less dramatic!
One of Ainslie's side effects, aside from crankiness and fever is extreme and violent diarrhea. I am not being dramatic here. It comes frequent and fast, so I have learned to be prepared for anything. But, sometimes I am slow and it takes me a while.
The other night my Mimi and our family were celebrating her birthday at Cedar Landing. This is by no means THE fanciest restaurant, but it is pricey and it doesn't have a drive-thru, so I think you get the idea. Brian had to go to school, so it was just me and the girls, all the way out to Lake Houston. When we got to the restaurant, we met my Dad, who was the only one there so far, and sat with him outside on the patio, looking over the lake. Ainslie was asleep, but shortly after we sat down, she woke up, made a funny face, turned red and KAPLOWEE! During teething, you always know when "business has been made" because it's not quiet, its a huge explosion that you can actually hear!
So, I grab her, a diaper, a some wipes and Ella says she wants to go too. So, off we go. If I would have known how far away the restroom was, I would have re-written the lyrics to "Over the River and Through the Woods, to Grandmother's House We Go," to "Through 2 dining rooms and a foyer, down the long hallway with the mirror where Ella has to stop and admire herself, through the bar, up the ramp, to the bathroom we all shall go." HOLY COW! Could the bathroom BE any farther away? The entire trek there, which seemed like something from "Monty Python's Search For the Holy Grail" Ella keeps complaining more and more of the smell. "It smells in here Mommy! It's really stinky!" I keep trying to explain it's Ainslie and not the restaurant.
We FINALLY arrive at the bathroom and I rush the three of us in the big stall with the changing table. The smell REALLY is getting worse, and Ella keeps on insisting its the bathroom. As I lay Ainslie down, I realize the horrible truth. She has leaked out the side of her diaper high onto the sides of her outfit, out on to my arm -- my entire forearm! HOLY POOP! Literally! I had left the rest of my stuff, including an extra set of clothes, in my diaper bag at the table.
What can I do? Think, think, think. Use your noodle, Dusti. I can't send Ella back, she'll get lost at the mirror and keep staring at herself until someone sends a search party. I could wait here until my grandma comes looking for us when she gets here.... possible. I could walk back through the dinning rooms/bar/hallway/foyer with this "stuff" all over me and Ainslie and make everyone who is eating barf, or lose their appetite at best. The manager surely wont' appreciate that. What to do, what to do? This is like SURVIVOR, no tools, only my wits to help me, except I have a baby and a 3 year old?!
The only option that truly made sense was taking off her outfit, cleaning her up and putting a new diaper on her. Ella bawks about the smell and I cringe as the onesie-outfit is smearing liquid poop all over my baby as I pull it up and over her head. I can only imagine what Ainslie is thinking as she looks up at me with a face that can only mean, "What EXACTLY did I do in my short 8 months on earth to deserve this sort of treatment?!"
We come out of the stall and are all alone in the bathroom. I am trying to decide if this is good or bad. I guess no one really wants to watch me wash out poop in the sink with one hand as I hold a naked baby in the other arm. Or have to graciously decline if I desperately ask for help. "Ya wanna wash out the poop, or hold the stinky, naked baby?"
As I wash, I am coming to the realization that I am going to have to take that long, long, long walk back through the restaurant with a mostly naked baby in one arm and a drenched, poopy smelling onesie in the other hand. Hmmm... pleasant.
I walk down the hall and try to graciously smile at the employees and patrons staring at my gang. The quote from Sweet Home Alabama, "You have a baby....in a bar," passes through my mind as we pass through the bar and an ugly guy with a dirty fishing hat stares at me. I think the movie would have been funnier if the baby would have been only in a diaper. A waitress asks me if Ainslie is OK as we pass through the main dining room. "Yeah, she's teething and it gets messy." I reply. What else am I going to say?
I get back the where our table is and find my grandma. I hand her Ainslie and a fresh dress, and say, "Here. Please put this on her."
Needless to say, I will NEVER go to the bathroom without the ENTIRE CONTENTS of my diaper bag, or my cell phone -- EVER AGAIN! How am I going to do this with 3 children? I will admit though, if something like that ever happened with Ella as a baby, I probably would have sat with her on the floor in tears because I would have felt so inept and like I had failed my child. I don't think I am any better now at being prepared or capable -- maybe a little wiser for the wear, but I do think I AM calmer. I don't get worked up about things like that, or punish myself for letting things fall through the cracks. I guess having a sense of humor through situations of desperation and humiliation is really what helps you get through it all!
One of Ainslie's side effects, aside from crankiness and fever is extreme and violent diarrhea. I am not being dramatic here. It comes frequent and fast, so I have learned to be prepared for anything. But, sometimes I am slow and it takes me a while.
The other night my Mimi and our family were celebrating her birthday at Cedar Landing. This is by no means THE fanciest restaurant, but it is pricey and it doesn't have a drive-thru, so I think you get the idea. Brian had to go to school, so it was just me and the girls, all the way out to Lake Houston. When we got to the restaurant, we met my Dad, who was the only one there so far, and sat with him outside on the patio, looking over the lake. Ainslie was asleep, but shortly after we sat down, she woke up, made a funny face, turned red and KAPLOWEE! During teething, you always know when "business has been made" because it's not quiet, its a huge explosion that you can actually hear!
So, I grab her, a diaper, a some wipes and Ella says she wants to go too. So, off we go. If I would have known how far away the restroom was, I would have re-written the lyrics to "Over the River and Through the Woods, to Grandmother's House We Go," to "Through 2 dining rooms and a foyer, down the long hallway with the mirror where Ella has to stop and admire herself, through the bar, up the ramp, to the bathroom we all shall go." HOLY COW! Could the bathroom BE any farther away? The entire trek there, which seemed like something from "Monty Python's Search For the Holy Grail" Ella keeps complaining more and more of the smell. "It smells in here Mommy! It's really stinky!" I keep trying to explain it's Ainslie and not the restaurant.
We FINALLY arrive at the bathroom and I rush the three of us in the big stall with the changing table. The smell REALLY is getting worse, and Ella keeps on insisting its the bathroom. As I lay Ainslie down, I realize the horrible truth. She has leaked out the side of her diaper high onto the sides of her outfit, out on to my arm -- my entire forearm! HOLY POOP! Literally! I had left the rest of my stuff, including an extra set of clothes, in my diaper bag at the table.
What can I do? Think, think, think. Use your noodle, Dusti. I can't send Ella back, she'll get lost at the mirror and keep staring at herself until someone sends a search party. I could wait here until my grandma comes looking for us when she gets here.... possible. I could walk back through the dinning rooms/bar/hallway/foyer with this "stuff" all over me and Ainslie and make everyone who is eating barf, or lose their appetite at best. The manager surely wont' appreciate that. What to do, what to do? This is like SURVIVOR, no tools, only my wits to help me, except I have a baby and a 3 year old?!
The only option that truly made sense was taking off her outfit, cleaning her up and putting a new diaper on her. Ella bawks about the smell and I cringe as the onesie-outfit is smearing liquid poop all over my baby as I pull it up and over her head. I can only imagine what Ainslie is thinking as she looks up at me with a face that can only mean, "What EXACTLY did I do in my short 8 months on earth to deserve this sort of treatment?!"
We come out of the stall and are all alone in the bathroom. I am trying to decide if this is good or bad. I guess no one really wants to watch me wash out poop in the sink with one hand as I hold a naked baby in the other arm. Or have to graciously decline if I desperately ask for help. "Ya wanna wash out the poop, or hold the stinky, naked baby?"
As I wash, I am coming to the realization that I am going to have to take that long, long, long walk back through the restaurant with a mostly naked baby in one arm and a drenched, poopy smelling onesie in the other hand. Hmmm... pleasant.
I walk down the hall and try to graciously smile at the employees and patrons staring at my gang. The quote from Sweet Home Alabama, "You have a baby....in a bar," passes through my mind as we pass through the bar and an ugly guy with a dirty fishing hat stares at me. I think the movie would have been funnier if the baby would have been only in a diaper. A waitress asks me if Ainslie is OK as we pass through the main dining room. "Yeah, she's teething and it gets messy." I reply. What else am I going to say?
I get back the where our table is and find my grandma. I hand her Ainslie and a fresh dress, and say, "Here. Please put this on her."
Needless to say, I will NEVER go to the bathroom without the ENTIRE CONTENTS of my diaper bag, or my cell phone -- EVER AGAIN! How am I going to do this with 3 children? I will admit though, if something like that ever happened with Ella as a baby, I probably would have sat with her on the floor in tears because I would have felt so inept and like I had failed my child. I don't think I am any better now at being prepared or capable -- maybe a little wiser for the wear, but I do think I AM calmer. I don't get worked up about things like that, or punish myself for letting things fall through the cracks. I guess having a sense of humor through situations of desperation and humiliation is really what helps you get through it all!
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