why being a mom is like being a boyscout

I get ridiculed by my husband when we go on trips because that means I have to pack.  I just hear that word and I shudder (Mufasa Mufasa Mufasa.)  But when it's time to pull out of the driveway, I have it all covered.  I'm always prepared.  (...I guess I should never say always, but you know what I mean.)

This, over-packing, always prepared way of life gave me the advantage recently.

I needed to run up to the grocery store to pick up a few things for dinner.  Sam was finished napping and my husband was home and looking for some 'down time.'  I bargained with him.  "I'll take Sam to Wal-Mart with me, if you'll get dinner started and clean up the living room."  He was in!  Sam had on a fresh diaper and I had put his bottle in my purse.  I grabbed a blanket because it was easier to find than a burp cloth and we were out the door!

We pull into the parking lot and I think I smell something.  I realize I don't have the diaper bag.  However, being the always-prepared mom that I am, I realized I had a few extra diapers and some wipes in the car.  Ok, I got this.

Only, I don't.

I get him out of his seat, check to make sure it wasn't just gas...and come back with a dirty finger! Ew!  Now there is (liquid) poop on my finger, his shirt, his pants, and pretty much his entire body (or so it seems.)  Where is that diaper bag!?

There's a blanket that Truck lays on in the back along with a stash of grocery bags that I have yet to recycle.

I lay Sam on the blanket and stick a grocery bag under his soiled behind.   It was rough.  Lots of wipes.  Another grocery bag filled with dirty wipes...and a naked kid whose clothes I can not put back on.

I am so grateful the Lord prompted me to bring a baby blanket instead of a burp cloth.  I wrapped up my mostly-naked kid in the blanket and darted into Wal-Mart.  Sam now owns a "My 1st Christmas" onsie that he will likely be too big for by Christmas, but I was in a rush to dress my naked baby.

I'm just glad I chose to go to a super-center rather than a grocery store.  Man, I sure did get the raw end of the deal I made with my husband!

Moral of the story:  Always bring the diaper bag!