hashtag parentingfail slash parentingsuccess

Filed under *you can’t make this shit up*… get this:

{Scene} I took Jo to an appointment and had to take Nina and Ruby as well since Emily was working.  I was reading to Nina while feeding Ruby in the home-like environment of the cozy waiting room we had to ourselves when Ruby emitted a noise from her nether regions (much to Nina’s amusement), so I got out the changing pad and set it on a couch.  And of course another parent entered the room just as I was laying Ruby down.  I knelt down next to the couch and began to change Ruby’s diaper with Nina doing color commentary at my shoulder:

Nina: Wow, that is some poo! It smells mommie! Ewwwww! Gross! It’s huge and it’s stinking up the whole room…. (you get the picture).
Me: Can you get me a wipe from the diaper bag?
Nina: Uh oh, mommie. There’s only ONE wipe.  And that is a more-than-one-wipe poo! Oh no, you’ve got trouble. What are you going to do? Should I call Mama?
Me: It’s ok honey.
Nina: Mommie, that poo is all over the place! It’s mushy and runny! And it’s all over her and look, it’s up her back!  Oh mommie, it escaped out of the diaper, it’s outside the diaper. I think it got on her clothes.  It’s all over her! Mommie do something!! (as if I am sipping a pina colada on a beach somewhere)
Me: It’s ok Nina. Grab me the extra outfit out of the diaper bag.

{Nina rifles through the diaper bag, emptying its contents across the floor}

Nina: MOMMIE (speaking through gasping panicked breaths) there is NO extra outfit!! What are you going to do?! This is a disaster! You’re horrible at this!  Worst. Parent. Ever.

~ now there are more people in the waiting room and they are cracking up, and I’m pretty sure at least one is filming us with his cell phone ~

{I remove Ruby’s clothing and cinch the new diaper on her.  I pick Ruby up and reach down to clean up and replace the contents of the diaper bag when we hear “SPLAT”}

Nina: MOMMIEEEEE she threw up! She threw up!  Oh it’s gross!  Oh mommie!  She threw up all over your back and the floor mommie! Mommie, it’s on your back and It’s. On. The. FLOOR!  Mommie, did you hear me!?!? (as if people three streets over did not)

I bend down again to clean up the newest mess with my near-naked baby and finally sit down in a chair where Ruby, clad in only a diaper, happily chews on her hand cooing and smiling as if nothing is amiss. But before I can actually regroup…

Nina: Mommie? There’s something on the back of her head.  It’s a little bit on her hair.  Look mommie.  What is on her head Mommie?! There’s something on the back of her head. Oh no. (pause for dramatic effect and then in a crescendo)  MOMMIE it’s POOOOOOOOOO!.  {pause – said in a near whisper with disgusted resignation} And you don’t have any more wipes. You are horrible at this.

By the time Joita’s appointment was finished I was snickering quietly to myself while Nina pretended not to know me.  Joita came down the hall from her appointment, and began to ask what all the commotion was about when she was brought up short by Ruby’s bare-chested form. “Why is the baby naked?”, she asked as I ushered her and Nina out the door, still giggling.

I admit, it wasn’t my finest parenting moment.  Though, to be honest, neither was it my worst.  I don’t know whether it is the fact that this is my third child or whether I’m feeling more confident and secure in general or because of my age or whether I am just more relaxed in who I am and all my imperfections that it really didn’t bother me.  Listening to Nina retell the story to Joita in the car on the way home brought me from giggles to a side-splitting hilarity.  Joita couldn’t believe I was laughing.  She said, “You know you just traumatized your 6 year old…  and probably everyone else in that waiting room.”  I shrugged.  Thanks for sharing that observation sweetie.

A few weeks after that incident we were walking through a museum in Philadelphia on a fun family driving trip adventure during spring break from school.  I was walking slowly with Joita and we were chatting as we went.  I stopped to hold the door for someone and helped get her stroller through.  I pulled over a chair for an elderly gentleman we passed by who wanted to sit with his wife.  I offered to take photos of a couple and another small group of people who were struggling to capture the moment with arms not long enough to take it all in.  As we walked, Joita became quiet.  I noticed her introspective demeanor and, giving her space for her own thoughts, I turned to take a few photos of the mosaic work that permeates so much of Philly.  When I turned back toward Jo she had an appreciative smile on her face.  She said, “You know…. you are a really good person in the world.”  I shrugged.  Thanks for sharing that observation sweetie.

a little dirty, and spelled unconventionally, but still a good person in the world

a little dirty, and spelled unconventionally, but still a good person in the world
















* I apologize to those of you who had to read the diaper incident twice (once on my facebook status and once here).  It was simply too good and I couldn’t resist. Especially juxtaposed with the more recent exchange.

About halitentwo

i am. god is. we are. as soon as i write something about me i change, am different, evolving. i am trans. i am a parent. i am a partner. i am a human. i am attempting to live a well-lived life in the spaces in between, beyond definition, fluid, dynamic, omnifarious and always changing. hopefully growing.
This entry was posted in everyday stuff, parenting. Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to hashtag parentingfail slash parentingsuccess

  1. Jamie Ray says:

    You can never have enough dog pick-up-bags or wet wipes. And when you only have one the powers that be will remind you should have had more.
    Nina should win an Oscar for her performance.

  2. Kris says:

    You really do live a kaleidoscopic life!

  3. Rocker Mom says:

    I know I’m late to this party but I just found this post and laughed out loud. So many memories of my kids doing stuff like this. Priceless. Thanks for sharing!

  4. Pingback: sometimes you win | kaleidoscope life

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