|a visit to McDonald's makes your day!|
I know, I KNOW! I can see all you nutrition police out there paling at the prospect of yet another mother and her brood succumbing to those evil Golden Arches.
But it doesn't matter what anyone says, it's good value, and we always have an AWESOME time! AND - believe it or not - we're finding food options that Mommy can make-believe are healthy!
Check this out for the kids breakfast...
Fresh fruit oatmeal for starters followed by a blueberry pomegranate (a power-food combo right there) smoothie!
Okay - so they had their fill of french fries admittedly - but real white potatoes have got some mega important anti-oxidant in them (I swear I read that in the Sneaky Chef.... or maybe I saw it on a greasy wall in a chippie back home...)
Mommy and Daddy both had yummy (but not so nutritious) Angus burger meals - hence the fries. We begrudgingly took it in turns to share our meat with the carnivore - our 22 month old - who hovered around our bright blue picnic bench like a starved baby bird!
He's not quite big enough yet to make it higher than the first level of this playscape, so it's lucky for us he was so easily distracted by our grub!
Thankfully both boys still don't know what a Happy Meal is yet, but I doubt we'll get away with that for too much longer. Their curious eyes, hone in quickly to anything toy-tastic, and once the meat and fries lost their appeal our somewhat shy (in public) twenty-two month old was soon venturing to stranger kids' tables - lured by bright boxes with handles and the cheap plastic trinkets already discarded to the side.
So, where (you ask) does baby girl fit in to this family picture?
She's actually shitting on my lap. No, not a typo!
When you can hear gurgling and bubbling, you know you're in trouble. I lifted her to check out the back of her sleeper-suit and was pleasantly surprised (and incredibly relieved) to see only innocent pink and white stripes.
No sign of the mustardy mucas which she regularly blows out all the way up her back and (sometimes) into her hair!!!
"Oh no, she's blown-out!"
Alarmed. I looked at Daddy and turned her around to survey the damage.
She'd blown down and out. Her pretty thigh was now pretty shitty.
And as I hovered my gorgeous girly out in front of us gravity sucked that sludge all the was down her left leg to her toes.
Hanging from her armpits, she smiled sweetly and serenely.
What a face! I was momentarily caught off guard in a Oh, isn't she adorable?" moment just as she crapped more custard down the already do-do drenched leg of her sleeper suit.
Minutes before this particular poop saga I'd already tackled our 22 month old's dirty gritty diaper without baby wipes! We'd left them in the car and I'd graciously declined Daddy's offer to retrieve them, thinking that toilet paper would clean up the jobby fine.
But with only the torn tatters of the end of the bog roll left I had to get my hands dirty.
This time - and without even asking - Daddy hightailed it to retrieve our AWOL baby wipes from the car, and Momma made a beeline (once again) for the convenient private restroom, enclosed within the play-zone.
As I approached the restroom, holding my yellow-footed baby out at arms length, I heard a female voice,
"Oh, she's lovely.."
Sarcy cow, I thought - but when I glanced her way there wasn't a hint of sarcasm in her smiling face. She was so focused on my baby girl's face she hadn't noticed the about-to-drip gloopy yellow balloon foot!
I've got to say - vanity aside - that's always music to a Momma's ears.
I laid my lady down on the diaper table and started stripping her down. That's when Daddy tapped on the door and handed me the wipes, swiftly departing to stand by for the boys.
What the.... ? I couldn't believe it! There was only ONE baby wipe left!
I cast my eyes desperately over to the loo roll, and of course it hadn't been changed yet.
I had to think fast. With that warm syrupy diarrhea cooling fast, my little smiler wasn't going to stay smiling for long, no matter how much crap she'd just offloaded.
The white and pink romper now had a growing yellow stain on the back already the size of a grapefruit, and one leg was entirely yellow. It would take a bottle of spray just to lift the stains - far more than what that hand-me-down suit was worth.
It was a no-brainer. I brusquely wiped her down from top to toe, until all the pink and white stripes were gone, and unceremoniously dropped that sacrificial sleep suit into the trash. Then I used the LAST baby wipe to meticulously polish my little naked cherub 'til she was as good as new!
Feeling very chuffed about how professionally I'd dealt with this most sticky situation, I proudly carried my cute as a button baby (all decked out in fresh duds) back over to Daddy and the boys.
It might not exactly be on a par with putting out a fire, or resuscitating a cardiac arrest victim, or even rescuing a cat out of a tree, but in my line of business cleaning up a blow-out is the type of emergency I'm trained for, and Momma done wiped the floor (or at least my babies' asses) with that double do-do disaster!
As we all trudged out of the Golden Arches together, baby farted.
I looked over at Daddy.