I’ve never been afraid of the dark. Great whites, hairy moles, getting robbed at a bank and asked to strip down to my skivvies in front of strangers, being trapped on a desert island without a razor— these are the things that keep me up a night. But not the dark. Until recently.
It all started with a trip to the Botanic Garden. I was walking my two kiddos in a double stroller that’s almost as wide as my post-pregnant tush when suddenly the earth started to shake under my feet. An earthquake? Nope, a different natural disaster— the vibration of both kids pooping at the same time.
So after about 40 minutes of searching, I finally found one of those family restrooms and took both kids inside to change them. I changed Zoey first, who asked me no fewer than ten times if there was corn in her diaper (where does she get these things?) and then I moved on to Holden. I’m halfway through his change when something scary happens. The lights go out. Suddenly, it’s so dark you can’t see your hand in front of your face, or in my case over his peeper so he doesn’t pee all over me. I assume it’s one of those energy-saving lights that’s on a timer and I’ve gone way over the time limit.
I have two choices. Pick Holden up naked and risk him peeing and pooping all over me or leave him there for a moment and pray he’s okay alone. I decide that having weekly visits from the DSS after a trip to the hospital would be less painful than having to wash the only pair of pants that still fit me, so I leave him there and blindly feel along the wall for the door handle. Can we just pause for a moment to think about how scary it is feeling your way along a bathroom wall that has probably never been cleaned unless you count the cockroaches who lick it every night? Finally I reach the Holy Grail and open the door a crack to get some light and find the light switch.
To my surprise, it’s not a timer that’s left us in the dark. There’s Zoey with a sheepish grin staring up at me with her hand still on the switch. Now I’m all for putting the light switch low enough for handicapped people, but in a family restroom can’t we at least put a child safety cap on it or something? I guess I should be thankful she doesn’t have her hand in the trash bin for women’s sanitary products. That’s usually what she’s getting into. Insert barfing sounds here.
I turn to Holden who’s happy as a clam, lying on the changing table with a fountain of pee-pee streaming into the air. Remember the fountain in the opening of Married with Children? Just like that.
It’s amazing. Holden pees and poops every time we take his diaper off. Apparently he doesn’t quite get the concept of a diaper. On the bright side, we’ve only gone through three diapers since we came home from the hospital almost a month ago. Talk about being green.
So not only am I afraid of the dark now, but I’m forced to carry yet one more item in my diaper bag. A flashlight. Does anyone know of a good place I can buy one of those giant suitcases on wheels? I think I have to upgrade my diaper bag to something a little bigger.