I have sunk to a new low

In the rush to get out the door this morning with enough time for Gabe to get to his toddler program on time, I glanced into my purse and saw two of Josie's diapers, enough (I figured) for us to get through the four hours until we'd come back home.

This is called FORESHADOWING.

I rushed the kids out the door and started on our list of "to dos". First, I had to load the car up with the three full canisters of gasoline that Josh needed me to take to our recycling center for dumping. I guess for the past three years, rather than take the unused gasoline to the hazardous waste dumping area, he would just go out and purchase a new gasoline tank. Hence, why my car was loaded up with THREE full gas tanks. I was a little annoyed at the task, but it wasn't until I started driving that I realized that I was driving with my two precious children and several containers of flammable gasoline. I slowed the car wayyyy down and started driving 15 mph, cursing Josh the whole way.

Josie and I dropped Gabe off, and I was afraid to leave her alone with the canisters for even the 30 seconds it would take me to drop him off at the door of the toddler program because I kept envisioning the car blowing up, all lethal weapon style. We made it to the recycling center in one piece, they dumped out that gasoline, and handed the canisters back to me with gasoline dripping all over the outside. I just stood there, because there was no way I was going to get gasoline all over the inside of my car, but I ended up finding an empty diaper box in the recycling area and I put the canisters inside that box.

Unfortunately, there wasn't enough time to take the canisters home before our next "to do"- the dentist- so that car reeked of gasoline the whole way, and I had some more choice words for Josh. We drove with all the windows down, but poor Josie still sunk of gasoline when I pulled her out of the car.

Josie and I went to the dentist, where she pretended to be a perfect angel from the comfort of her car seat. I was shocked at how well she behaved, really. As we were leaving, I fed her in the car, ran home to drop off the canisters, and then we drove to our next "to do"- the hairdresser- where I was scheduled to get this horror of a haircut fixed. My current haircut has to be the worst haircut I have ever received, and I'm sorry to say that I have actually cried at how awful it looks. I can't do anything with it, I can't get it to work, I just feel like it constantly looks frizzy and nasty and too layered and uneven. Ugh, I hate it so much.

Anyway, we arrived at the hair salon and I decided to change Josie's diaper, thinking it must have been relatively full and maybe changing it now would keep us from having some of the leaking problems we've been having recently. I balled up the diaper, stuffed it under the stroller until we found a garbage can, and started off for the hair salon.

And then I heard it. The unmistakable sound of a child blowing out of her diaper. I was actually relieved Josie had spared me the embarrassment of blowing out in the waiting room of the salon, so I happily headed back to the car where I started another diaper change. It was only then that I realized the other diaper was a size 1. As in, TWO whole sizes smaller than what she wears. I tried to get it on her, and it looked like a speedo. Her butt didn't even entirely fit into the diaper, and I was going to have to hold it together with the floss the dentist had given me.

I had a moment of panic, because there wasn't enough time to go home, not enough time to go buy diapers, and I couldn't cancel my hair appointment because HELLO! disgusting hair here! So I did what any reasonable person would do, and unwrapped her original dirty diaper and put it back on her.

I know. I know. I'm disgusted with myself, and I cannot believe I am putting this down for posterity. Josie need something to talk about in therapy, though, and I figure this will suffice. My poor sweet child sat through the haircut, smiled at everyone, and sweetly watched me get my hair shampooed, cut, and blow dried, and did it all with a very dirty diaper. I owe her. Big.

Let's recap. I made my child stink like gasoline, didn't let her nap, forced her to sit through two appointments and ride around in the car seat all day, and made her do it all in a dirty diaper. Someone alert the press, mother of the year award right over here. Clearly.