Yesterday I arrived at the boys' Monday school with a bit of anxiety. I had just received a phone call from the program administrator, asking that I have a chat with [name redacted for privacy concerns]'s teacher. Although she assured me everything was fine, I have never, ever had a teacher request a conference just to tell me how cool my child is.
This mild anxiety is my excuse for not noticing the state of my baby's butt when I hoisted her out of her car seat and onto my hip. I was thinking about [name redacted] and pondering what awaited us. I found my way into the crowd of kids and parents, all wondering and oblivion.
Fortunately, that's what I have children for, to point out my boneheaded ways to me.
"Ooo, diaper leak!" Raphael announced. He gingerly lifted one of Sophia's chubby ankles to peer up her leg. "Oh wow, it's EVERYWHERE."
Indeed, it was.
I found an empty room in which to change Sophia's...everything. What we really needed was a de-con unit, with a high-powered shower. I settled for about a million wipes. Sorry, Earth.
It was one of those classic parenting moments when you start assessing the problem, and it unfolds and unfolds and unfolds - have mercy - and unfolds before your eyes. Sophia's onsie? Messy. Adorable corduroy jumper? Oh yes, besmirched. Is that poop in her hair? Wait, and on my sleeve? And all down the side of my shirt? OH YES, AND GENEROUSLY SMEARED ON MY HIP? Yes please, may I have ANOTHER?
I sent one child out to the van to find a sweater or SOMETHING I could wear and grimly set to wiping everything clean. A mountain of dirty wipes grew on one side, while on the other side, [name redacted] bounced on the balls of his feet, trying to come up with a REALLY GOOD REASON his teacher wanted to talk to me.
"Go tell her I'm running late but we'll be there soon," I growled at him. A child arrived with a zip-up jacket, and eventually I had both Sophia and myself reasonably re-dressed. At least, she was clean and wearing a fresh, bright yellow onsie. I, on the other hand, was wearing a jacket, zipped up to conceal the fact that I had no shirt on, and tugged low on my hips to conceal a LOVELY poop-shmear.
Now, in general, I feel that transparency is the best policy. If I'm late because I just got pulled over by a cop, I'll let you know! (I will also announce to the boys as I navigate my way to the side of the road that I am about to talk to a police officer and when he leaves I will cry AND THAT IS OKAY.) However, I just couldn't seem to find a quick and graceful way to tell the poop-storm story. Plus, every version I could think of started, "Guess what? I'm not wearing a shirt!" which is an awkward start to any parent/teacher conference.
So instead I stood there, nervously tugging the hem of my jacket down and the zipper up. To make matters worse, the teacher had a chair, while [name redacted] and I did not, and stood in front of her. He clutched his backpack and agreed vigorously with everything she said, while I tried to project a look that said I am in charge and full of good ideas about my children's education and I am CERTAINLY wearing a shirt and pants without poo. I'm almost sure that I have lessened that teacher's concerns about my son, if only because she assumes he's being raised by someone who is Not All There, and so he is therefore doing the best he can, the dear little pumpkin.
When it was finally, blessedly over, we beat a hasty retreat. [Name redacted] trotted next to me, apologizing and promising to do better, while the other two boys skipped along, glowing with the holy light of the children who are not in trouble.
And I? Well, I am a seasoned mother of four. I know the ropes, right? Plus, I am not an idiot. So I checked the car seat for poop before I strapped my now-clean baby in it, right?
*sigh*
As I told [name redacted], making a mistake (or several) doesn't make you stupid, it just makes you human. Try, try again.
Oh gosh what a day ! those expolsions were called poonamis in my house :)
Posted by: Nicola | October 21, 2009 at 10:23 AM
that should read explosions !
Posted by: Nicola | October 21, 2009 at 10:24 AM
"while the other two boys skipped along, glowing with the holy light of the children who are not in trouble"
Love, love, LOVE that line.
Posted by: Carla Hinkle | October 21, 2009 at 11:04 AM
Favorite parts:
1. a conference just to tell me how cool my child is
2. unfolds and unfolds and - have mercy - unfolds
3. about to talk to a police officer and when he leaves I will cry AND THAT IS OKAY
4. every version I could think of started, "Guess what? I'm not wearing a shirt!"
5. he's being raised by someone who is Not All There, and so he is therefore doing the best he can, the dear little pumpkin
6. skipped along, glowing with the holy light of the children who are not in trouble
Posted by: Swistle | October 21, 2009 at 11:55 AM
Delurking. Loove your blog - your writing is wonderful and your children adorable.
What brought me out of lurking is this: "To make matters worse, the teacher had a chair, while [name redacted] and I did not, and stood in front of her." What?! The teacher made you, a grown woman/parent/customer STAND in front of her while she sat? What the?
Posted by: Carrie (in MN) | October 21, 2009 at 07:44 PM
To add to Carrie...not just stand but stand while holding a beautiful and CLEAN baby? Really?
Posted by: liz | October 22, 2009 at 11:49 AM
Ahhh the joys of the breastfed baby poop-splosions, I can't tell you how many times I valiantly donned some skanky cheerio-encrusted shirt from the way back of the car because dear god at least it wasn't poop! Free do-overs for everyone lol
Posted by: Clarity | October 22, 2009 at 04:28 PM
As a teacher, I'm horrified that the teacher expected you to stand during a conference--especially while holding a baby. Hello? From the first day of Teacher 101 they teach you not to do that. On behalf of my entire profession, I apologize for her really lame-brained error.
Posted by: Teble | October 22, 2009 at 10:43 PM