My almost-seven-month-old son has developed a routine for any car ride lasting longer than 15 minutes. First, he spits up on himself no matter how long it’s been since he last ate. He manages to coat the car seat straps and himself every time. Next, he talks for several minutes about life and, by the inflection in his voice, the things that annoy him–having a wet neck is probably one of those things. He then removes at least one of his socks to chew on, which leaves it so soggy it cannot be put back on until it dries. He follows “sock time” up with a bowel movement. Finally, he falls asleep.
The result is that when I get anywhere that requires more than 15 minutes in the car, I arrive with a grumpy/sleepy baby with bare feet, a front that smells like barf, and a behind that smells far worse. My dreams of graceful entrances to hip parties didn’t come true before I had kids, but I’m facing the fact that they are really never going to happen at this point.
My daughter helps out the process by giving me a running commentary of what he is doing in the car. “Mommy, he sneezed, but there was no snot. Well, there’s snot on the car seat, but not on him!” Or “Mommy, he smells like poop. Poopy, poopy, poopy (in a sing-song voice).”
This adds to my general state of frazzled-looking Mom when I arrive at my destination. So I’m pretending like I don’t smell anything and that my children and I all look just as fresh as when we first got dressed–20 minutes ago.
Update: After I finished this post, I took my son to the doctor. He filled his diaper on his way there so that we arrived incredibly fragrant. Then we were given a prescription for Augmentin that required another visit to the pharmacist. Motherhood is great, isn’t it?