he was sitting in his high chair, my sweet boy, eating dry cereal by himself. i was dashing in and out of the kitchen, giving him bites of yogurt in between getting dressed, fixing my hair, packing his bag.
normally, our mornings are more relaxed.
i've been waiting to see a specialist for months and months, and although sam was still a little sick from the flu, i had to take him to a friend's house so i could keep my appointment. (rescheduling also takes months.) i was nervous; i hate meeting new doctors and the awkward conversations that always involves. i was dressed, my hair was okay, sam just had to put on his snowsuit. little dread-filled springs were coiling and releasing in my stomach while i got ready.
apparently, they were jumping in sam's as well. he squawked a decidedly unhappy noise, and when i reached him (this is where you stop reading if you have a weak stomach), diarrhea was bubbling up from the front of his diaper.
like a fountain.
all the way up to his chest.
normally, i snap into action in a crisis. i know exactly what to do and do it well. (i'm not a very good every-day person, but i'm great when things go wrong.) but i was completely at a loss. i could practically see the big row of question marks over my head where ideas usually appear.
i tried to think. cancel my appointment? i'd never get another.
show up late? might as well cancel. he's that busy.
wipes? oh this was way beyond wipes.
heedless of the poo, i unbuckled sam and carried him (not very close, i confess) to the tub. i turned on the shower and hosed him down, fully clothed.
he was not a fan.
eventually, i peeled off his clothes and diaper and filled the tub with clean water and soap and scrubbed him down in the world's fastest and bubbliest bath. he had to suffer through a quick toweling and no lotion, but we made it out the door in ten minutes, clean and dressed and ... well, mostly in our right minds.
and my appointment? i made it on time ;).