the poo bomb

your daddy and i met in 2004, started dating a year later, got engaged a year after that, and were married after 1 year of engagement. to date, we have been married roughly 4.5 years.
you are 7 months old.

now that i have that timeline out of the way, and i feel better about that...

but wait....let me say this, too:
i'm glad that you are only 7 months old and can't really speak english yet. i don't doubt that you have a slight grasp of what's going on because you are crazy smart (like me), and intuitive (like me), and also really pretty (like me), but you don't understand adult stuff. not that it is earth-shattering or anything, but i have hypothyroidism and was just put on a medication for it 3 days ago. it has me LOOPY. i forget things, and get confused, and today my head has been kinda sketchy and i keep getting dizzy and such. it's annoying. so....thankfully you aren't aware of my weird-ness at the moment. that being said, it really doesn't matter, mathematically, how long your dad and i have known each other for this story's sake, but for MINE, you needed to be up to speed.

and...i feel better about that, too.

okay. ready. set. go.

last weekend you, your daddy, and i went to his family reunion in good ole Topeka, KS. because your mimi likes us all being together, she insisted that we take an extra day to drive there and stay the night in Tulsa, OK where your great-uncle Bill lives and have dinner with him before we drove the rest of the way to Tulsa. it was kinda out of our way, your dad had to take an extra day off of work, and we could have made the entire drive in one day. BUT, your mimi was a star! she paid for our gas, food, and hotel, and do we didn't mind the extra day of vacation.

the next morning in Tulsa, for the second half of the trip, you rode in the car with your grandparents. don't take this the wrong way...it was nice to have a few hours in the car with just your dad so that i could sleep. which you know by now is my favorite hobby. AND. i figured it wouldn't be long before you got bored in their car and started being fussy forcing them to want to give you back to me....(you do that, but it doesn't fool me. i always win because i can read minds and know what will calm you down. no one else listens to me when i tell them what you want and therefore you keep crying unless i have you. i'm magical like that.)

about an hour into the drive, your grandparents pulled off the road in the middle of nowhere, Oklahoma into the parking lot of an abandoned gas station. i had a feeling you must have been hungry or inconsolable or somesuch so they were looking for a savior to help you be satisfied. MOMMA TO THE RESCUE!!! as soon as they stopped the car, both of them jumped out and ran to the back to pull your carseat out. they retrieved you so quickly i just KNEW something was wrong.

and then i saw it:
you.completely.covered.in.poo.poo.

when i say completely, you need to be aware of the extent of the complete. it was under your fingernails, jovie. on your shoes. on your bow. all up your back. your arms. your cheeks. your mouth (?) inside AND out you were slathered in your own poop.
apparently you had a nice little time reaching into your diapers and pulling out the stinky paint and just...went to town being artistic all over mimi's car. i can't say that isn't impressive. 7 months old and already able to discover new ways to have fun with whatever is within reach.

NICE.

under normal circumstances...well...as normal as it could be seeing as how you don't NORMALLY mess yourself...we would have been able to hose you down in the sink of a bathroom. but we didn't have a bathroom. all we had was our own intelligence and critical thinking skills.
immediately, the four of us worked together like a professional hazmat cleanup crew.

i grabbed a box of diaper wipes, mimi got the bottle water, your grandpa found a plastic sack. your dad. well. i don't know what he did....
but anyway, before we knew it, i was holding you up under your arms and your dirty clothes were on the ground in a puddle of gravel, poo, water, diaper wipes, and flies. and we were all trying to get you cleaned and changed and as far away from the putrid stench as possible.
in a dash, grandpa stuffed the trash in the plastic sack, went behind the abandoned store where there was a trailer house, and threw your mess into their trashcan that was on their porch.

while he was doing that, mimi, dad, and i were working to put all of your things back into our car the way they were and get rid of all the flies that had come from all across oklahoma to get a whiff of your poop out of our cars. so many flies in the cars. it's making me gag thinking about it. the poo i can handle. the flies? not so much.

anyway, in the blink of an eye, we were all back in our places out on the country highway. and of course, i was on the phone within seconds to your nana to tell her what a ::giggle:: shitty thing you had done.
and it dawned on me....i didn't know where you're clothes were. i think they were thrown away with the dirty undies, the wet wipes, and the mud.

"turn the car around RIGHT NOW"
"what?!"
"i loved those shorts. i want them back. turn the car around"
"you have to be kidding"

not at all, good sir, i wasn't kidding. and so. we turned around. both cars. the five of us...and our swarm of pet flies. turned around, drove back, forced your father to go to a stranger's front porch, and dumpster dive in their garbage for your dookie covered britches.

i know that while you are 7 months old and clothes don't matter to you, you don't see the sacrifice in this. BUT. i know for a FACT that when you are about 13, you will understand the sacrifice that your mother made your father make by forcing him to retrieve your soiled linens. in your understanding, you will probably give me a really great birthday gift, or maybe clean your room.  undoubtedly you will thank me. and maybe THEN you will be able to see the extent in which i love you: as much as i love a good outfit.

and jovie, my bird, THAT is a LOT.