At lunch, The Dad and I - through text and secret-parent-code talk - discussed a billions things we could do to fill our day. Finally, in the parking lot after our tummies were full from delish BBQ, we decided we'd go watch a Razorback softball game.
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| Momma's legs needed some sun, y'all! |
After our stop to fill my purse with regularly-priced snack items, I decided that Daughter 2 (who was wearing sweatpants) and I (who was wearing brown pants) needed to change into shorts if we were going to be sitting out in the sun, and we found a Chick-Fil-A.
Daughter 2 and I hopped out, raided our packed, but now-unneeded suitcase for a some shorts, then we converged on the tiniest bathroom we've ever, ever seen. After waiting for one of the stalls to open, we entered. I did my business (because I am a certain age and when the opportunity arises to empty my bladder, I take it!), pulled off my pants and helped Daughter 2 get changed so that her pants weren't dragged on the floor (too much).
I stood and, moving my feet 2.25 centimeters at a time, I turned to flush the toilet. At this time, Daughter 2 decided she needed to tinkle, too. So, I had her stand on the toilet seat as I scooted from the right to the left side of the toilet to give her room to hop off the toilet and take a seat. Yes, it was that small.
In the meantime, Xena, her momma and her baby sister came into the bathroom to change the baby's diaper on the changing table that took up the entire waiting/sink area of the bathroom. Xena, a three year old with a passion for splashing water from a faucet, began doing her thing as her mother pleaded, "Xena stop! Xena don't!" thirty-dozen times as the floor got progressively wetter and wetter.
Daughter 2 finished her business and stood on the toilet to flush with her foot. We plastered ourselves against one of the walls in order to pull the door open and then stepped out into the 3-foot by 3-foot space we were not trapped in since we couldn't get by the changing table and Xena was intent on depleting Washington county's water supply.
I noticed Xena's mom glanced at me, and she seemed embarrassed. I looked at her and said, "It's OK. No worries," to reassure her that we'd all been in the position of changing a diaper blow-out while trying to stop our three-year-old from completely drowning herself in a plugged-up bathroom sink. That was just a small part of being a momma.
And she glanced at me again then turned back to the baby. Obviously, she was completely embarrassed by the whole situation. Then she turned to me and said, "Are you ready to leave?"
What kind of question was that? We were standing, waiting patiently for her to finish her business and part the seas created by Xena. She, apparently, was on the verge of a momma-melt down. I needed to be very understanding, as Xena - squealing with delight - had just discovered the soap.
"Yes, but we're in no rush. We can wait," I reassured her with an overly friendly grin on my face that I hope didn't say, "I'm about to ring your little Xena out in that sink..."
"OK," she laughed nervously. What did she have to be nervous about? I was an out-of-towner. I didn't know the number to child services.
Then Xena turned from the sink. I was a little bit hopeful that she would stop splishing and splashing, but I knew that there was no where else to go and nothing else to entertain her. She looked at me and I put my best-momma face on. Maybe she'd see that other people, besides her momma, wanted her to "stop" and "don't".
Instead, she grinned (she had a cute grin) and said to me, "Why you got no pants on?"
Why I got no pants on... Wha---???
I looked down. Why didn't I have pants on? I looked at Daughter 2 who burst into a wild, raucous laugh and said, "OH. EM. GEE, Momma! You forgot to put on your shorts!"
I slipped back into the stall and found my shorts hanging on the purse hook on the back of the door and slipped them in. This gave Xena's momma time enough to grab the baby and the water horse that was Xena, and clear the path for the sympathetic, but crazy momma to make my exit with as little obstacle as possible. Daughter 2 and I splashed through the water puddles as we ran from the stall and the store and right into the minivan, where I hollered, "Hit it!" as I jumped in a buried myself in the floor of the passenger's side.
I'm certain this was not what Arkansas had in mind when they welcomed me just hours before with a sign that said, "Welcome to the Natural State."
