("Scrumptious diaper, Paulie," notes Caroline.)My parental humiliation has been well documented here in the Pointy Universe. Last week, Paulie told the cashier at Whole Foods that she had yellow teeth. A few months ago, Caroline walked up to a complete stranger at Hannaford’s and said, without warning, “My daddy farts in the grass." Both kids swear sometimes -- almost exclusively in crowded public places.
It's hard to predict the verbal outbursts but there are other times when I'm spaced out or sleep deprived and appear trailer trashy. Like the time Paulie’s pants fell down around his ankles in the parking lot at Marsh's and I had no idea until two dudes in a pick up truck started laughing their heads off. Then there was the time when I didn't realize that Caroline had taken off her shoes in the car. A passerby pointed out that my daughter was walking on the snow-covered sidewalk in her socks. Caroline thought it was hilarious. I was riddled with guilt.
The scene of the latest incident takes place at – you guessed it – the Assinippi General Store, where Paulie already has two priors. James and I dressed both kids in their pajamas for the night before I headed down the road to the Dell'Olios and he to a hockey game. This is important to note.: I dressed Carrie, James dressed Paulie. We swung into Assinippi to pick up some Cavit and a six-pack of O’Doul’s for Mama LPD.
Just as we thought we were going to escape without incident, Dee -- the store manager who always seems to be there when things go awry -- came over to us while we were checking out.
“Um, I don’t know if it’s one of your kids but there is like a HUGE puddle over there,” said Dee, pointing to a South America-shaped pool of urine in the wine aisle. For a moment, I stood dumbstruck -- no doubt looking like an Olsen twin with my storm trooper boots, enormous sunglasses and armload of booze. Then I went in for the bum check.
Caroline: Dry Tinkerbell undies. Paulie: Completely soaked. The worst part – it was neither a leaky diaper nor a deluged Pull-Up. There was no diaper there at all. Paulie was freeballing in his jammies. Either James forgot to put one on him or Paulie took it off himself (which he tends to do but usually announces it). Doesn't really matter. I was the one left holding the walnuts.
Dee swabbed the aisle and we fled to the Dell’Olios where I cleaned up Paulie and hung my head in shame.
5 comments:
oh, man. I am not the only one who experiences trailer trash mama moments. Like the time we went to Target, and I decided I would change my son in the disgusting bathroom because he had soaked through his pants. Not only did I not bring an extra pair of pants, but when I was putting on the new diaper, one of the tabs ripped off and so only one size was fastened so his pants sagged past his bum crack. He walked out of there looking like a mini white P Diddy on crack.
I hear that! I trailer-trashed at Target just a few months ago. Paulie sauced through everything he was wearing. I had to discard his entire outfit in the Target bathroom and buy him another one. It's epidemic! Or at the very least, a good blog topic.
HILARIOUS> I laughed my arse off, but I didn't sauce myself (props to Paulie). Kate, you must collect these gems into a collection of short stories, something like: "Trailer Trash Tales of a Well-Meaning, Sleep-Deprived Mother".
Although KJ certainly seemed rattled by the experience when she arrived on our doorstep, our little Pee-Pants buddy seemed happy and unaffected as can be. Carrie dove right into the evening by taking precautionary measures, insisting throughout the evening that Paulie needed to use the restroom and politely requesting that we give him some privacy.
Yes-The evening improved dramatically upon entering the Dell'Olio residence. The good vibes there quickly delivered us from our white trash moment. In addition to garnering some "privacy" for Paulie, Carrie has also been known to yell to him before she closes the bathroom door, "Don't forget to push your penis down, Paulie!"
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