Adventures in fatherhood...

So I returned Sunday evening from my weekend retreat, ready to jump back into the whole "Mr. Mom" routine.

Good thing, because on Monday my youngest son (5 yrs. old) and daughter (3 yrs. old) both had strong cases of diarrhea. We tried Immodium, no luck. So we determined they'd go to the doctor ASAP today.

That happened at 10:30. We were taken from the waiting area in the lobby at 11:00. At 11:30 my daughter tells me she's "wet". Uh-oh. Time to hightail it to the car for a change of clothing.

So we head back through the lobby, stopping only long enough to tell the receptionist we'd be back after a change. As we get halfway to the front door, another father with his family exclaims, "OH GOD!!"

I know what THAT can mean so I look down at my girl's leg. Sure enough, that telltale brown trickle is inching it's way past her knee. Doubletime troops, now!

We reach the car in time, the trickle has only gotten to within an inch of her sock top. Then I start looking in the diaper bag for wipes, training pants, etc.

Nothing there. Nada. Zippo. Just two training pants for her brother and some bottles of sun block. Lovely, just lovely.

I wipe her down as best I can with one of the training pants and her shirt top (there IS a complete set of clothing for her on the car floor, left over from last week). All the time I'm cursing the wife in my head for not keeping everything stocked just in case something like this might happen. "How the hell does she NOT keep wipes, spare training pants, etc. for when they're needed?" I righteously mutter to myself. DAMN!

The daughter is cleaned up, we meander back to the room we were in. The doctor shows up, takes in all the information, tells me it's a stomach virus thats been making the rounds and gives me instructions on what to do. I also get a prescription to be filled.

So out we go. Figuring I don't want to be smelling the filthy mess my kid's shirt and soiled training pants have become, I put them in the empty diaper bag and take them to the back of the car, opening the tailgate to toss 'em in.

But first I find I have to remove the backpack that sits in plain view.

The one my wife filled with wipes, spare training pants, etc. last week.

The same backpack that I had tossed into the car.

After she handed it to me with explicit emphasis on the need for it and everything it carried.

Yeah, THAT backpack!

(Sigh) On to the next adventure.

And I didn't see that other father when we went back inside, maybe he took off. Don't know why HE got grossed out, he only had to look at the mess, not clean it. Amateur!