Tim after first soccer practice. Lovely.
As I waited in the car with one baby sleeping and the other jumping on my lap, I grinned from ear to ear as I watched them play. Pretty soon, the thought that the baby just drank the last of milk dawned on me and I started thinking about getting back to the grocery store somehow.
BUT, the four year old woke up and wanted to play and the weather was so nice and if it weren't for the complete darkness that we soon found ourselves in, we would have stayed longer.
With my youngest three boys in tow (the oldest asked to play at his cousin's for a bit), I glanced at the clock and against my better judgment, I decided to do a quick stop at our neighborhood store at 8:45 in the evening.
Needless to say, a quick stop turned into an hour long trip. They opted for one of those hard to maneuver kid shopping carts and enjoyed them for about five and a half minutes. That's about when the struggle began and it was real. Between handling the baby climbing in and out of the "driver" section and wanting to be held and to run around, the four year old asking to buy this and that, the eight year old doing the same as both the four year old and the baby, the kind shoppers who were complementing my monolingual four year old on his shiner, I thought I was never to complete this trip.
As we finally, somehow made our way around our usual route, I remembered that we didn't have much of anything for the late dinner we were about to have. So in my effort to find something hot, economical and healthy, I went back and worth between the deli isles while chasing a toddler and answering unimportant questions that my talk abled children wanted answered.
In my despair I settled for pizza and baked chicken. Because we had to wait for them to bake the pizza, I, being an efficient mom (ha!) headed to the register to pay. That's when all hell broke loose and the straw that broke the camels back happened.
As I was getting ready to pay, holding a baby tightly on my hip, a lady asked to excuse her as she made a weird movement around us. Puzzled, l looked around and saw that something has dripped on the floor around us. My immediate thoughts were---"Water? Did the baby spill water on himself and the floor? Wait a minute, we never brought water. Oh no. No!" In about few seconds more liquid was on the floor and that's when the baby escaped my embrace and it was evident to everyone standing in that now long line that he peed through his diaper or that I was THAT kind of mother that has a kid pee through his diaper.
In that same moment as my feeling of inadequacy was being validated. I heard a man who was standing behind me gently and quietly say the following:
I turned my burgundy colored face around and smiled wide as he smiled back and shrug his shoulders.
I don't remember what happened next. I remember apologizing and trying to refrain from laughing. The laugh mimicked a nervous laugh of someone who is about to become crazy. I continued to laugh as we marched to the bathroom. I took out a diaper that I was so thankful to find at the bottom of the diaper bag and a clean outfit. Grace.
I laughed when I kissed my baby's cheeks and naked tummy as I changed him. I laughed as I took a glimpse of my self in the mirror--wearing mismatched tops and an awful hairdo. I laughed at the fact that I would have never laughed if I wasn't a mom in my thirties.
My husband coincidently pulled up to the store on his way home from choir practice just as we were ready to leave. I laughed harder when I retold him the events that he barely missed.
On my way home, all I could think of were those timely words of "Pee Happens!" He has no idea how much I needed to hear them today and for the days to come.