Will was walking and I had Kiki in the stroller. We were traveling a path. Somehow when I got off the phone that big wide path turned into a skinny trail. Will and I forged on. We were beginning to be a bit on the wet side. Will wanted to go back to the car. I was good with that and so we headed in a direction I thought would lead us to the car. Eventually it did but not without serious drama.
As we are traveling down this ultra skinny trail that the stroller barely navigates, all of a sudden there are rock steps. I have no choice but to take them. I hoist up this extremely heavy stroller and extremely carefully walk down the wet rocks. What joy. Then, Will panics. He insists I hold him. I can't. I literally can not get to him. I am wedged between bushes and rocks stuck behind a stroller. He is crying, snot pouring down his face and stomping his feet in frustration. I am doing my best to talk him down the rocks. I have my hand stretched out as far as I can get it. I am trying to tell him I just can't get him. He scares me real bad when he turns around. I realize I can't get him. I can't let the stroller go and I can't get back up. Thankfully he comes back and after some intense life coaching he climbs down the rocks. Backward. On his stomach. In the special overalls I bought for an adventure in a few weeks. He is now muddy and soaked. We have to climb down many more rocks before we are finally in the clear and can head to the car.
On our way out we encounter a bulldozer. Will loves a bulldozer and I decide to have a happy moment and we watch the bulldozer move a rock. He loves it. So much in fact he doesn't want to leave, even though he has rain running down his face. He wants the bulldozer to do it again. I tell him that it's off, that the guys were out of it and that it was done. He asks to go in. I tell him he needs a license to drive it and he is to young. Nothing works. I have to pick him up and carry him away.
Finally the car is in sight. Will falls and scrapes his knees. Did I mention he is wearing special overalls that are intended for a special adventure in a few weeks? There luckily is no damage. Kiki is hungry so I put Will in the front seat, grab Kiki out of her seat and head to the drivers side. It's gloriously empty in the parking lot. I whip out a boob to feed her and Will gets the passenger seat covered in mud from his shoes and clothes. We are looking at birds when all the sudden, one after the other, 3 Parks and Recreation vehicles roll up. Where do they park? Why, right in front of the car that has a huge boob hanging out and a toddler in the front seat. I cover up as best I can and hope I don't catch any of them looking at us. So life goes on. I can smell Kiki took a poop in her diaper but decide to change her when we get home. Right as I am concluding that thought she lets it all out. It's a horrible rumble sound full of wetness. It was the sound of "oh no mom, you are gonna change me and I am going to make damn sure of it". She left me no choice. I hauled her out to change her. I laid her down on the one small bit of space I had in my trunk. It was filthy. I had a blanket but didn't want to risk getting it pooped or peed on. Her other blanket had been soaked by the rain so I really needed this blanket to be usable. Wise choice. Poop got everywhere. She pooped through her onesie, up her back, down her pants and through her thick warm suit. Wow. The poop had actually gone down her pants. So far down in fact I thought she hadn't got poop on her pants until it was on my hands. I looked down inside the pants and saw it. Impressive. So I strip her down and get into the diaper bag to look for clothes. I got nothing but 2 pair of pants. No onesie, nothing warm, just 2 pair of pants. I bitch myself out as I dressed her again hoping she didn't freeze from a lack of clothing.
Will in the meantime had squashed a squeezie over the center console and the passenger seat. He has been sick and barely eating. I had put the squeezie in a cup holder in the console to protect it but also encourage him to eat it. Nope. Somehow he magically squashed it over the car and his overalls. Those overalls I am convinced are doing to burn before the special adventure occurs. I put Kiki in her seat. I put Will, who mind you has crawled into the backseat and wedged himself between the seat and the car seats, into his seat. I have a pile of wipes and a nasty diaper in the back and I get another pile of wipes in the front seat cleaning up squeezie. We head out. Oh and it decides to stop raining and bear some sun. Thanks Seattle weather, I will just drive my cold, wet kids home now.
Anybody that has ever been to that garden knows you have to go through the roughest, toughest part of town. The Seattle murder rate is up because of that part of town. Well, not long after leaving Kiki loses it. She is HUNGRY. I just fed her! I refuse to stop. Refuse. As a matter of fact I am pretty sure I pulled up to a red light next to a restaurant where a dad was shot in the head in front of his kids and father and killed a few months ago from a bullet not meant for him. Sorry girl, you gotta wait. She manages to get herself under control and we do make it home alive.
I just wish that things could go a little smoother you know? Does it really have to be like this every time? It apparently does and that's why I write about it. Dairies are nasty places.
No comments:
Post a Comment