We have just driven all the way from our hotel, circled around Main Street several times, finally ending up getting a great parking spot to open the backseat door to a horrible odor.
Baby girl is innocently smiling but I understand right away that a diaper change is in order! We have parked right outside one of Park City’s fancy art galleries and as I lift baby out of her car seat to gauge the damage some older ladies “drenched” in both expensive perfume and jewelry walk by. It is worse than I thought-way worse. Baby’s whole, entire snowsuit is covered in poop. Covered! It’s literarily everywhere, her back, her stomach-even her neck! How did this even happened?
No, I don’t have an extra snowsuit (it’s not like you buy two-this is a nice dark blue suit from Ralph Lauren!). I do however have a white and pink onesie in the diaper bag and look at me I even packed pants (more fit for the weather back home of course). Did I mention this is the coldest day since we arrived, in the 30s!
My plan is to (first of all breathe and not completely loose it) get rid of all of baby’s clothes. I understand that I have to throw away her entire outfit but am hesitant (too cheap) to throw away her nice snowsuit. I need a bag or two, so I make the obvious choose; asking hubby to ask for them at the art gallery. Off he goes while our son is getting antsy in the backseat and baby tries to smear her poop on the rental car’s front seat where I tried laying her down.
My husband is taking way too long, I’m having a hard time as it is keeping baby (who is now protesting loudly) under control and the mess contained to worry about my boy in the backseat and what he is up to. When their daddy finally comes back, WITHOUT bags, I must say I have a minor meltdown. “Do not scream mama-you do NOT scream” comes from the back of the car.
I can’t believe he comes back to let me not only know that they told him, he needs to purchase something to get a bag, but now he wants to ask me what to buy. I’m trying to pin a now hysterical, poop covered and extremely squirmy baby to the front seat of our nice rental car while our son is wreaking havoc in the back while trying to stay sane. I’m about to give up, just leave and let my husband take care of this mess. Except I don’t fully trust him to take care of this. I mean, I don’t even have the situation under control and I don’t even want to know what will happen if I let go of this baby right now. I try to think of other solution where to put all the dirty clothes as I yell (I must admit; bad mama) for my husband to buy WHATEVER to get bags for the poopy (understatement of the year) clothes and diaper. I am ready with like hundreds of wipes but I NEED a bag to put them in.
As I’m close to tears and making a small spectacle of myself and my family, the owner (a petite lady of a certain age) comes out of her gallery to complain. Can you believe it? She is saying that we are loud and that we smell (wait a minute) and could we please leave (as in get into the car and drive along already).
Uh-oh you don’t utter those words to an already out of control mama. Yes, I know buddy, you “do not scream”. I’m not sure what happens next but within seconds, husband has several bags and as I start the toxic cleanup, breathing in through my nose, out of my mouth I slowly regain my sanity….only to discover what little boy has done to the backseat!
I pack up bags with diaper and wipes and clothes and put the unrecognizable snow suit in a different bag-the whole car stinks so incredibly bad. I dress baby in the onesie and the thin little pink pants, wrap her in a blanket and hand her over to her dad. The gallery owner’s son is gracious enough to actually apologize for his mom and he lets me use their restroom to wash my hands. As I walk in, the very “proper” lady owner turns her chin up to me and refuses eye contact. One of the ladies I saw walking in before tells me what a great husband I have, running to get me what I needed right away (wait, what?? I’m so confused).
Walking back to car, I wish I would have stayed in the gallery restroom longer (or forever). Somehow, our adorable, blond haired 3 year old has found some crayons (he probably brought them from a restaurant) and colored every single window with various colors. I half heartlessly try to wipe the creative “animals” (he is pretty proud) as I realize the colors won’t come out.
We actually try to get a coffee before going back to the hotel on this last day of our fabulous winter vacation, but it is way too cold for baby and our boy is way too wild. We accept defeat and turn our smelly, rainbow colored rental car back to our tiny room to pack for tomorrow (and a major bath). As we leave, the man I married put a little box in my hand (what now!?). I curiously open it. It’s a rather small rock shaped like a bear. He DID have to buy something at the gallery-a $40 dollar “bear-rock” the cheapest thing for sale in the art gallery.
When we leave the hotel early the next morning after another night of little to no sleep (in our broken bed… please don’t ask), the hotel staff are all beyond excited to see us go…and it’s snowing!
Real big, snowy, white wintery flakes…