It was a warm sunny LA day, so I figured it was a perfect opportunity to take the boys to the park. Morris busied himself in the sand and Bronson opted for a push in the swing. This was probably the third time Bronson was in the park swing. It’s so cute how excited he gets when I push him. I do the usual cooing noises, pinching his toes, and peekaboo games while gently pushing him. He is loving it! The sound of his delightful squeal and high pitched laughter makes me feel better than a 75% off sale at Bloomie’s (well, they’re neck and neck). But, it’s something about how good it makes me feel when I see my child happy. It’s almost like reassurance that I’m doing something right. The laughter and look of trust they give you is equivalent to 2 paychecks with overtime and a Christmas bonus. The kid next to us in the swing is not happy at all. His mom kept giving me the evil eye because she was probably so annoyed with my saying, “who’s mama’s good boy” and making “ah-choo” noises incessantly. And I think it was equally annoying her poor kid. Oh well, Bronson was amused and that’s all that mattered.
After about 20 minutes and 15 rotations of Old McDonald, I took the cue of the huffing and puffing nanny waiting to put her pouty princess in the swing. I really didn’t want to stop because Bronson was still laughing and having the time of his life. But, I didn’t want to be “that” parent-the one that just hogs the swing the whole time while others are waiting. But, it was tempting. I took Bronson out and threw him in the air a couple of times. On his way down, I caught a whiff of something…I had to stop and think, did I remember to put deodorant on this morning…yes! I threw him again, and as he gleed with laughter, I realized there is always a first time for everything. My 9 month old did his first public blowout…a BM, a poopie, cauca, a stinky, poo-poo, she-she. Whatever you want to call it, it was time for a major diaper change.
Of course I left the diapers, wipes, and everything else needed in the car, which was parked half a mile away since it was such a pretty day and everyone was at the park. I know, you’re supposed to always have your diaper bag with you, but he has NEVER had a public diaper change before (I must have passed on my dislike of public bathrooms) so I just save the manpower and leave it in the car. After trekking to the car and back (holding my little guy at bay) I assess the damage, and it is collateral! I instantly go through my new 8 pack of wipes quicker than a new pack of orange Tic Tacs. Oh, and good thing it was St. Patrick’s Day and I was all dressed up in my pretty green dress (which now also had lovely splashes of muted yellow with a few orange sprinkles). Then, I realize he needs a change of clothes (oh crap, I never replaced the 3 month old onsie that was in the diaper bag) and he and I both reek. At that point, I realize I just want to get him home, so I pack up and put him in the car seat donned in his diaper only (it’s ok, it’s 88 degrees) and head to the car. In that moment I think, wow. I have 2 pretty good boys. Mo curiously watched me change the diaper, and even volunteered to “help.” And Bronson, what a champ. He just laid on our tuflo blanket with a confused look on his face the whole time. Maybe he was reminiscing from his beloved trip on the swing. But, most likely he was wondering, “what in the heck is this lady doing,” but he never squirmed or cried. I don’t even think he blinked once.