Making Do

On Fridays, Charley generally has school but Zander does not, so this is the time that he and I have our alone time. This past Friday, I decided to take him to a playground that is right on the beach, where he could run around and I could read a page or two in my book. And as an added bonus, this park actually has port-a-potties, just in case, unlike most parks around here.

So, there we were, enjoying the nice breezy morning at the park, when Zander suddently announces that he has to go poop. No problem, right? Because there are bathrooms right over there. Whew, it's our lucky day. Except when we reach the bathrooms, one of them has a padlock on it, and the other one looks like perhaps a poop bomb had recently exploded inside the ENTIRE THING, along with an entire roll of toilet paper. Too gross.

What to do . . . what to do . . . ah yes, when I called my friend Tabitha just a little while ago she said she was home, come on over if we feel like it. So I gathered Zander up and took him to the car . . . except I start to smell something a little funny. Oh no. Much to my dismay, I realize that Zander wasn't quite able to hold everything, and he had produced a minor accident in his underwear. Unfortunately, I did NOT have anything to put them in, so they went right in the park garbage. Fortunately, I DID have baby wipes in the car, so I was able to clean Zander up good enough, and then looked around for somewhere for him to go potty, since it looked like he wasn't going to make it to Tabitha's. A glance around the area revealed that there were way too many people to let him just pop-a-squat, so I searched in the back of my car and found a canvas grocery bag that would have to do. Poor Zander, though, wasn't able to get comfortable enough hovering over the sack that I had strategically placed IN THE VAN to produce much of anything except a few drops of pee that slid right off the bag on to my van floor. Awesome. So it was definitely time to hit the road and pray. I whipped on his shorts (sans underwear), and we were off.

I floored it to Tabitha's, and made it in record time. I unbuckled Zander as quick as I could, ran him up to her door in my arms, and rang her door bell, all the while assuring him to "hold it just one more minute." We waited, and waited, and waited . . . and no Tabitha. I set Zander down, whipped out my cell phone, and hit speed dial.

Tabitha: "Hi. What are you up to?"

Danielle: "Sitting on your doorstep. Where are you?"

Tabitha: "Oh, Im at Long's Drugstore. I will be home in just a few minutes."

Danielle: "Uh oh . . . . "

She invited us to go hang out in her back yard, but what good was that going to do in my situation? I asked Zander if he still had to go poop, and apparently his situation had changed, because all of the sudden he no longer had to go. Whew, close call. So we accepted her invitation, and decided to wait in Tabitha's back yard until she got home.

We let ourselves in, and I got comfortable with my book in a lawn chair, while Zander entertained himself with all the kid toys in the yard. All was well until about ten minutes into our venture, when Zander once again announced that he had to go poop. Uh oh. Now what?

I looked around for something, ANYTHING, for him to go in or on . . . and all I could find was a plastic target bag that was holding some outdoor art supplies. I quickly emptied it, raced Zander over to the middle of the lawn, and pulled down his pants. But once again, he couldn't quite help himself, and his entire bottom and pants were covered with icky icky poo. Ah, the joys of motherhood. So I did what any good mother would do, and made him squat and poop in the middle of Tabitha's lawn on the Target bag. Thank goodness he wasn't so shy this time, and much to my delight, he took care of business. However, my joy was short lived when I realized that I had NOTHING to clean him up with. I could go back to the front of the house, to my car, where the wipes were hiding, but that would require a trip down the alley and around the block with a half-naked kid with a poopy butt. Not an option. If I could only find something to wipe him with in the yard . . . . nope, those palm tree leaves are way too big . . . and those flower bush leaves are way too small . . . . but there is a faucet . . . and there is a watering can . . . and yep, I think that will work!

So I watered my son's butt with a plant watering can. Yes, son, the water WILL be cold.

When Tabitha walked in the gate a few minutes later with my naked son running around her yard, I told her not to even ask. I just need to borrow some boy shorts. ;)