We got a late start yesterday morning.
The kids weren’t cooperating very well. Bryce wet through his diaper again (that kid drinks WAY too much water) and I had to peel his wet pajamas off of him. It took them a century to choose the kind of cereal that they wanted (Lizzie chose “Strawberry Special K” and Bryce wanted “Frootloops” — we need to be healthier, I know). They fought over who got the “blue” bowl. They each claimed that they were still “starving” after eating one bowl of cereal and so they each ate another bowl full. Mason was grumpy (probably because Jon shaved him bald the night before…poor baby). We couldn’t locate Bryce’s favorite dragon shoes. Anyway, we were barely able to squeeze in a quick family prayer before I stuffed the kids in their car seats and took off.
We were half way to Lizzie’s school when she suddenly yelled out “Mommy! I’m going to poop my pants RIGHT NOW!”. I asked her if she could just wait until she got to school and she adamantly declared that her poo was going to fall out any second.
Great. I didn’t bring her any extra clothes! I debated pulling a diaper out of my diaper bag and telling her to have at it.
A large part of me wanted to simply turn the car around, drive back home, and make Lizzie have a “sick day” today (which was very tempting because it would save me a trip to her school later on in the afternoon). I decided against that, however, because I had a feeling that that kind of behavior could quickly become addicting (for me, not for Lizzie).
We happened to be in an area where there were no gas stations or stores around. Besides, I had no inclination of getting all three kids out of the car just so that she could use the bathroom. SO, being the wonderful mother that I am, I parked in the nearest parking lot (near a park…with no bathrooms, of course). I told Lizzie to unbuckle her seat belt, take off her pants (and underwear) and sit inside of a big garbage bag that I had found in the glove compartment.
So there we were, in a parking lot, and Lizzie was trying with all of her might to defecate inside of a garbage bag. Mason was crying and Bryce was wondering what the heck was going on. Needless to say, after all of the fuss that Lizzie made prior to pulling the car over, she couldn’t go to the bathroom for the life of her.
I told her to keep trying because I didn’t want to start driving again and have her accidentally mess her pants.
After 5 loooong minutes of failed attempts, she gave up. With Mason still crying (and understandably so since he was probably under the impression that we were finished with our trip), we continued on our journey to the elementary school.
When I picked Lizzie up after school, she told me that she still hadn’t gone #2. I guess it was just a false alarm.
This morning, when I went on a walk with the boys, I felt empathy for Lizzie because I just about had an accident in my pants. It wasn’t enjoyable at all. When I told Bryce that we had to hurry home because Mommy had to go to the bathroom, he calmly looked at me and said “Stop at a gas station”.
Well, that sure beats the garbage bag option.