I DROVE HOME BAWLING

If you were ever picked on in grade school, you may relate to this. I have broken down and bawled 3 times this week all in thanks to my 1 1/2 year old.

I was helping a friend move this week (and by help I mean allowing my child to destroy her old and new apartment). I thought it would be a good idea to stop by the gas station and pick up some drinks. This ended up being the worst idea ever, second to thinking that my child would behave while I hauled boxes to my car. During the next hour the little angel preceded to dump strawberry milk all over my friend's carpet, discover her icemaker and water dispenser and flood her kitchen, nearly trip a man carrying a tv, and stand at the top of the stairs on top of a box of shoes and scream bloody murder. I know you are pitying me right now, aren't you. Well save it for later because there's more. During this time his bowels let loose and I used the only clean diaper I had. When we got to my friend's new apartment everyone started complaining of the stench. Stench you ask? You just changed his diaper. HA! The poop bandit got me again. This time I left him in it. I had no choice. What, do you expect me to do: take it off and wrap a towel around the kid's butt? No, he did it, he could wait until we got home. Two poops in one hour is completely unacceptable. After unloading the boxes I thought it would be fun to hang out a bit longer. We went to Target where I purchased diapers and then we sat in Papa Murphy's for fifteen minutes while my child continued to set off my car alarm in erratic spurts, destroy yet another cell phone, lay on the floor and throw a tantrum, and pick up on strange unassuming older men. When we got back to the apartment my first task was to procure a clean bottom. I laid him on the tile floor thinking this was the safest place to ensure that the little defecater could not do more damage. Wrong again mommy dearest. He placed his little feet on the tile and shoved off just as I'd pulled the diaper off, leaving a huge brown skid mark on the middle of the floor. At least he felt at home...right?

After that fiasco I was ready to leave but pizza had just been pulled out of the oven. And who can say no to Papa Murphy's take and bake pizza? I should have said no, I should have known that my time was up and this kid was a ticking time bomb. Needless to say I had to run out after one piece of pizza, an entire glass of water down my pants, dragging my child and leaving all of my dignity in the garbage with that poopy diaper.

I drove home bawling.

Another unforgettable incident involved my attendance at a friend's baby shower. A mix up in communication with my husband left me taking my child with me. Big mistake! To make this short let's just say that he destroyed the adorable diaper cake, ripped several toys out of the hands of an unfortunate child, took their garbage can apart and strewed it across the kitchen, touched every single muffin on the table (after the garbage incident), knocked over a vcr and a dvd player, destroyed the party favors, screamed bloody murder through the games, and YES, you guess it, marked his territory with a poopy diaper. I walked out.

I drove home bawling.

We took him to dinner. No need to explain.

I drove home bawling.