June 26, 2013--Puke and Profanity

So, this story is one part hilarity and one part soapbox.  I'll begin with the hilarity and leave it up to you to decide if you want to listen to my following rant.

The setting is our tiny, 4-door white Ford Escort, driving through Edwardsville/Glen Carbon on 159.  Chaz and I are in the front seat, the girls in their respective car seats in the back.  We have just finished dropping the dog off at the groomer's, getting breakfast, stopping at Walmart for the first time to replace my POS phone so that I can return to the 21st century and running some other errands.  Chaz and I are now debating whether or not to stop at Walmart for a second time to pick up the handful of things we need while wasting time waiting on the dog.

As we're discussing our course of action, we hear that horrid and foreboding sound of a rumbling stomach followed by a slight cough/belch.  I turn around and know by the look on my two year old's face that she is about to blow; it's a combination of panic and pain.  And not two seconds later, she is covered in regurgitated strawberries, pancakes and water.  She immediately starts crying because 1) she can't feel good--I mean, let's face it, who on this planet takes pleasure in vomiting?--and 2) she's dirty and wet.  She hates being dirty and wet.

While attempting (and failing) to soothe her and reassure her that she's ok, I look at Chaz and say, "Well, guess that ends that discussion.  Guess we're going to Walmart."  He whips into the parking lot, which is currently under construction, finally finds a parking spot and we set to righting the crisis before us.

Now, me, being the genius mother that I am, have left the diaper bag at home, because I figured we weren't planning on being gone that long and my kids are pretty good.  What could possibly go wrong, right?  Please don't answer that.  So, I have Chaz flip the trunk open and pull out an old blanket that I know has been there for months and return to the backseat to begin cleaning up my daughter.  I wipe her hands and legs, then pull her out of the car seat and place her on the blacktop.  I then proceed to strip her down to her panties and her socks because everything else is soaked in red puke.

In the meantime, Chaz has gotten out of the car and come around to the passenger side, where my daughter and I are currently standing and he takes over wiping away the last remaining dredges of half-digested food while I turn to the task of cleaning out the car seat.  I have stripped off the seat cover, wiped it off and handed it to Chaz to throw into the trunk and am now turning to put the actual seat back into the car.  I hear her say something along the lines of "my clothes are icky, Daddy," and he assures her that yes, they are indeed dirty.  And then, as I'm leaning into the backseat to replace the car seat, my daughter, quite succinctly and emphatically states,

"Son of a b!tch!"

There was a split second of shocked silence before my husband and I both burst into hysterical laughter.  I am literally leaning on the door frame of the car, trying to hold myself up while I also attempt to contain the laughter that is not about to be stopped and when I finally am able to glance over at Chaz, he is doubled over in the parking lot, laughing his a$$ off.  

Now, before the lectures start about toddlers being tape recorders and mommies and daddies needing to watch what they say around their children (which is true, I'm not denying) let me say that my two year old has heard just about every curse word there is to hear.  I'm not proud of that fact, it just simply is.  My husband is a former Marine and has never really curbed his cursing habit.  Despite her hearing these words, she has never repeated any of them.  I don't know if she just has some sort of sixth sense about it or what, but it's like she instinctually knows not to say them.

This is the first time that she has used any type of profanity.  She used it in context and in my own humble opinion, she used it appropriately for the situation.  If I'd had to strip down to my underwear in a public parking lot because I'd just blown chunks all over my outfit, I'd probably say a lot worse.  Just sayin'.  Anyway, the point is, it was just too hilarious for the moment.  I about died laughing.  

Don't lie--whether you approve or not, you're probably laughing too.

After this little incident, we managed to get both of the girls into a shopping cart and headed into the store.  And this is where the soapbox half of my post is going to begin.  You have been warned.

First let me say that the Walmart is currently undergoing an expansion, so nothing is where it's supposed to be and nothing is where it has been for the past God knows how many years.  Used to be, you walked into this Walmart and it was a straight shot to the back of the store for baby stuff.  You literally walked in the door and kept walking until you hit baby clothes.  No turns, no treasure hunts, there is less than a minute.  But no.  Not today.

Today, as I'm walking through Walmart with my (for all intents and purposes) naked toddler, the baby stuff has been moved over halfway across the store, smack-dab in the middle of everything.  The doors have also been moved so every person that has just checked out now has to walk past us on their way out of the store as we make our way in.  So, here we are, walking through Walmart, with a two year old in panties and Hello Kitty socks.  

We got our fair share of odd looks, let me tell you.

Now, I expected this, don't get me wrong.  You see a naked baby, you tend to wonder for just a moment what's going on.  We got the quick glances, we got the sideways glances, we got the double-takes and the few slightly uncomfortable smiles.  You know the ones--those, "oh, look at the cute baby, holy cow, she's naked, that's slightly awkward" smiles.  

Those were all mildly irritating and more than understandable.  I grinned and bore it and simply walked faster towards the baby clothing.  But then there was the one.  The one person who had to go and really piss me off.  

This woman was middle-aged, probably late forties or early fifties.  Chances are, she probably had kids of her own that were more than likely grown.  Maybe she's got a grandkid or two, who knows?  But she is leaving the store as we are walking in and she is starting at my naked toddler like she is some sort of white trash hillbilly that just got done dumpster diving after being released from prison.  I mean, seriously, I cannot begin to put into words the contempt, disgust and disdain on this woman's face.  And we're not talking just a quick glance and then hurriedly looking away.  Oh, no.  We're talking an incredibly rude stare with the slight grimace of the mouth that indicates that she's worried she's going to contract HIV if she gets within three feet of this child that is wearing no clothes.  The looks she gave us was even worse.  That extremely distinct sneer with the nose in the air.  

When she did finally manage to stop leering at my child and deign to make eye contact with me, I hesitated not a moment before saying, rather forcefully, "She puked all over herself in the car.  Her clothes are covered in vomit; that's why she's naked."  I got no response other than a slight huff (I didn't really expect one) before she hurried past to continue on with her higher-than-thou judgmental day.

And now, I would just like to ask a simple question: was I wrong for taking my child into the store in only her panties and socks?  I will take responsibility and say that if I had been a truly prepared mother, I would have had the diaper bag with me with an extra set of clothes in it for both girls, just in case something like this happened.  As it was, I didn't, so I took my daughter into the store, found her an outfit that she liked, ripped the tags off and dressed her, and then paid for the clothes at the checkout afterwards.

Would I have been a better mother if I had dragged her into the store still dressed, terribly upset and crying hysterically while dripping vomit-covered strawberries all over the floor?  Would that have gained me any less disgust or judgment from the people walking by?

Kids have accidents.  They throw up when you least expect it, they pee their pants accidentally, they spill food and trip in the mud.  As parents, we are never going to be completely prepared for each and every little possibility that could come about.  It never fails that if you pack one clean outfit for your child, they'll have two accidents.  Or if you pack diapers for one, you'll forget them for the other.  Whatever the case may be, there is always going to be something that could potentially happen to screw up your day.

As parents, the best thing we can do is make the best out of a crappy situation and do whatever needs to be done to rectify it.  Today, the best way I could rectify the situation was to soothe my daughter.  The best way to soothe my daughter was to take her dirty clothes off of her and clean her up.  That is what got her to stop crying, that is what got her to take a few deep breaths and calm down.  After stripping her down, it seemed the best way to rectify her nakedness was to go into the store and buy her a new outfit.

God forbid someone's sense of modesty and propriety was offended by my two-year-old's nudity.  Not to be petty or anything, but I tend to be much more offended by the twelve or thirteen year old wearing a push-up bra with a low-cut shirt and shorts that barely cover her ass cheeks or the 350lb woman wearing clothes that are three sizes too small and half her body is rolling over her waistband like fresh sausage.  I mean, seriously, of all the inappropriate things that can be seen today, you're going to freak out over a two year old who's going to be "naked" for all of two minutes while her parents try to find her some clothes that aren't drenched in putrid vomit?

Get over yourself and maybe consider the possibility that there may be a perfectly logical explanation for why a toddler has a few too less clothes on in the middle of the super store.  An explanation other than her parents are lazy, good-for-nothing jacka$$es who don't care.

And there ends my soapbox rant.

Have a great day!