It’s all a Blur

I was having a “smell the roses” moment yesterday evening. My 7-year-old has a weekly piano lesson at 6:30. There’s a little neighborhood park nearby, and during nice weather I like to take Daisy over there to play while we wait. During the long, dark winter, we pass that half-hour in the car or running errands, but last night I decided it was just BARELY light enough at that hour to hit the playground.

It was muddy and cold, but Daisy LOVES the park. She lunged for the swing, raced up the climbers, flew down the slides, bounced across the wiggly bridge. Then she stopped suddenly and dropped to her knees, with an all-too familiar look of concentration on her face. “Oh, no you don’t! Not here…not now!” I begged.

Daisy May is not quite 3, and not even close to potty-trained yet. I realized with dismay that in my rush to get to piano lessons, I had failed to grab my “weekend purse” containing a diaper and wipes. As the stench made it obvious that this situation needed immediate attention, I walked her back to the car to assess the available supplies. Inside my “work purse” I found: 1 piece of Kleenex; a water bottle; several sheets of copy paper (containing a magazine article I had proudly written); and an old bandana. I scrounged through the glove box praying to find a stack of McDonald’s napkins. I must have done something really rotten to my parents as a child, because I came up empty.

It was not a pretty sight, out there at twilight in the park. But I McGyvered my way through the epic clean-up and finally set my little girl back in the car seat, commando. She didn’t seem the least bit upset by the disgracefulness of it all.

When we got home, Ian (laughing hysterically) put our daughter’s stinky rear-end straight into the tub, while I poured a generous glass of wine.

Some days are a blur. At least she had fun at the park while it lasted.


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