And Murphy Giggled

It all started with my choice of wardrobe this morning.

My new white v-necked tee from my favorite store. I hadn't worn it but once, and was looking forward to going out and about the town in it today. Today is a busy day; Tuesday Morning Mom's Group at church, music rehearsal with friend Missy, then a chiropractic appointment. All of these things are things in which I want to look presentable. I don't want to appear as I do around the house; hair swept up in a messy ponytail, shirt wrinkled and damp from holding a baby and catching his drool.

As I put on my new shirt, I heard a faint giggling somewhere. I ignored it.

I shouldn't have.

It wasn't just any giggle. It was Murphy.

You know. Him. The one whose law states "If it can go wrong, it will."

The first couple of hours went smoothly. My Tuesday Morning Mom's Group went great. Lancelot was in the nursery, so my shirt was as yet unwrinkled or damp. It was lovely. It looked just like a new white shirt ought to look.

When we got home, it was time to feed Lancelot. I selected carrots.

I faintly heard a giggle, but I ignored it.

I shouldn't have.

It was Murphy.

Lancelot eagerly thrust his hand in the little plastic container and promptly smeared carrots all over his khaki pants. (Thank heavens my white shirt was saved. I was smart enough to drape a dish towel over myself. I learned yesterday with my new yellow shirt that babies aren't the only ones who need bibs.) It wouldn't be so bad if these khaki pants belonged to me. No, they are a generous loan from Damselfly. Her little Flybaby wore them, but grew out of them, and as Lancelot is three months younger than Flybaby, she ever so kindly lent them to us. (Thanks, Damselfly! I'll do my best to get the carrot stains out of them...) I immediately took the pants off of Lancelot and tossed them in the laundry pile, vowing to throw them in the machine as soon as he was done eating.

I heard a faint giggle, but I ignored it. I shouldn't have. It was Murphy.

After feeding Lancelot (and when I intended to throw the clothes in the laundry so that the pants that do not belong to me will not be stained,) I realized that the nursery workers who took care of my little munchkin during Tuesday Morning Moms did not change his diaper. He was soaked. Absolutely drenched. So it was off to the changing table.

I have never seen such a wet diaper. All the books say that you should give your child a few minutes of diaperless time to prevent diaper rash and to allow their skin to get some air. I had never done this before, so I thought now would be a good time to try. After all, he had been in a sopping wet diaper for who knows how long, and I could tell by looking at his poor, wrinkled-up skin that he really needed it. So, I grabbed the waterproof cover and a blanket and set him up in the living room. I removed his diaper, set him on his tummy on the waterproof cover which was over the blanket, and put out a few toys for him to play with. I was starving, so I went into the kitchen to heat up last night's leftovers.

Very softly, there was a faint giggle. I ignored it. I shouldn't have. It was Murphy!!!

I was in the kitchen for two minutes. That's all. But that's all it took.

I came back into the living room expecting to see my son happily playing with the little toys.

What I saw instead looked like a sewer that had ruptured underground and spilled forth onto my son, the waterproof cover, the blanket, and his clothes. Of course.

I set down my lunch. (Pork roast and homemade bread from last night. Yummy! My absolute favorite!) It'll have to wait a minute.

And Murphy giggled.

It wasn't just a minute. See, this poo was all over the place. It took about 10 wipes to remove the mess from my son's skin, then there was still his clothes, the waterproof cover, and blanket to take into account.

I put a fresh diaper on the kiddo and yank his shirt off of him. I ball up the shirt, waterproof cover, and blanket into a wad, and add it to the pile with the khaki-pants-that-don't-belong-to-me-but-have-carrot-stains-on-them. Then it's off to the bathroom and he gets a bath. In the middle of the day. He loved it!

And there my lunch was, all lonely and getting cold.

There it is, another giggle!

By now, my new white shirt that I was planning to wear all day to impress my friends with how un-Momlike I can maintain my appearance is wrinkled, damp, and smells of bodily fluids. (Fortunately, no stains. I guess Murphy had SOME mercy on me!)

I removed my new white shirt and replaced it with a ratty maternity tank top. The ultimate in frumpy Momness. Blech. I adored this tank top while I was pregnant. It was great. It kept me as cool as I could possibly be in our Florida heat. But now, I don't want to look pregnant anymore. I'm still carrying around a bit of baby weight, so when I wear the maternity shirts which are cut to allow for extra weight, I look pregnant! Grr.

Murphy isn't giggling anymore. He's laughing uproariously, rolling around the carpet clutching his stomach and weeping because he is laughing so hard.

The little twerp.

Thankfully, Lancelot is now asleep in clean clothes and a fresh diaper. As soon as I complete this post, I'm going to toss my white shirt in the dryer with a fabric softener sheet to freshen it up. (I have so few non-maternity shirts that I can fit into and that look good. This year is the year of wardrobe replacement. lol!)

So there you have it. My encounter with Murphy.

People often say, "You'll laugh about this someday." Yes, that's true. However, why wait? I think I'll laugh about it now, because as annoying this day has been so far, it's pretty darn funny.

And Guinevere Giggled.