Flashback Friday

I have decided to add a new little "feature" to this blog. I am going to call it "Flashback Friday" (maybe I will start a whole new trend. And if someone else is doing it somewhere, then don’t tell me. Let me live in my "oh, I am so very clever" moment, dammit!)

You see, I read lots of great blogs that women write where they get to talk about all of the cute, shocking and downright disgusting things that their kids do. Mine too do cute, shocking and disgusting things, but they are 19 and 21, so it just isn’t really all that exciting anymore. Not by a long shot.

When my demon brats kids were growing up the word "blog" was just a sound made when you had your head hanging over the toilet after a night of binge drinking and playing quarters. Computers still took up entire wings of buildings. Okay, not really, but DOS was the popular programming language and the internet was still in its "fetus" stage. It hadn't even reached "infancy". So you see I never got to share all those little moments in hell adorable things my kids did when they were little with people in places like India and Australia.

Sooooo that is where the "flashback" part comes in. See....it is all starting to make sense now, huh? I knew you would catch on.

So I have some good stuff coming. I thought about keeping you waiting until next week, but what the hell, why not just jump right in and humiliate myself and my daughters right away?

Now I am not PROMISING to have some cute, exciting little gem to give you EVERY Friday, but I will give it my best. Deal? Good.

When The Princess was just 23 months old, my little Tomboy was born. Of course at the time she wasn't a tomboy, I was still putting her in those humiliating pink dresses and headbands and stuff....but I digress.

When The Tomboy was 2 weeks old, I had to take her in for her first checkup to make sure that she was gaining weight on my breastmilk, etc. I didn't have a whole lot to wear at the time since I had gained 763 pounds during my pregnancy and only lost about 4 of them when I gave birth, so I was stuck with wearing a light colored, summer "jumper" type dress that I had worn into my 7th month. Since it was now October I decided to put a long sleeve t shirt under it. It wasn't very heavy material and it was see-through it certain light, so I put a half slip on underneath; the same one that I had worn during my pregnancy so it was a little stretched, but it worked.

Off I headed with my newborn and my 23-month-old to the doctor's office.

At the time the clinic we went to only took walk-in patients. They didn't do appointments. So you just showed up one day and waited for 3.8 weeks until your name was called.

When we got there it was CROWDED, but I managed to find an area to set up camp smack in the middle of the waiting room.

We had been there for a while when The Tomboy woke up and started to cry. About that time The Princess decided she needed to go potty. She was doing the "I. gotta. go. NOW!" dance, and the The Tomboy was screaming at the top of her tiny little lungs.

I was NOT about to just pop my boobs out for the amusement of the man with the bloody bandage on his hand and the guy sitting next to him with 3 missing teeth, grubby black hands, and the dark blue uniform with the name tag "Earl" on it. So I put the baby back into her carry seat, really screaming now. By this time The Princess is flopping around on the floor, eyes rolled back in her head, holding her little crotch, her face turning 13 shades of red, begging me to hurry, Mommy, hurry. To say that I was feeling a little on edge is like saying that Paris Hilton is only KINDA stupid.

I grabbed all our stuff that was strewn around, and shoved it all into the diaper bag, grabbed the baby, and stood up to make my way through all the bodies to take The Princess to the bathroom. Everyone was looking at us.

EVERYONE.

Just as I stood up I felt it. It happened so fast.

I looked down. There I stood, baby in my arms, diaper bag on my shoulder, toddler practically in convulsions, and my half slip was in a pool at my feet.

You know how you have those moments where a million things go through your mind in an instant?

Should I step out of it and just leave it laying there? Should I step out of it and kick it under the chair? Should I dare to pull it up? Oh.My.God.

So I put the carry seat down, bent down and unceremoniously hiked it right back up as if it was something I did on a regular basis in front of 1,716 people. The lady across from us smiled sympathetically. I wanted to be abducted by aliens RIGHT THEN.

Since no bright light nor a tractor beam presented itself at that second, then with all the dignity I could muster, I picked up the baby, took The Princess by the hand and headed to the bathroom.

When I got in there I realized something was terribly, terribly WRONG. When I had pulled up the slip I had bunched the back of my skirt in the top of the slip. So I had just paraded my fat ass through a sea of people with my skirt tucked into the back of my slip, AFTER I had pulled it up because it had FALLEN THE FUCK DOWN!

I stayed in the bathroom until they called our names. The good news is that The Princess made it to the potty without peeing her pants.

That just seemed really moot at that point.



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