The Appointments

It was a day to end all days. The end of the world had arrived with bells on.

We haven’t made an official announcement yet, but we’re having another baby. I guess this is the official announcement.

This time we don’t have a special saying like, “We’re adding a new bunny this Easter.” Blah, blah, blah. We’re just trying to figure out how to handle being outnumbered.

We decided to have baby #3 at a hospital in a neighboring town, quite a ways from us. Long story short, we just felt we should have the baby there instead of at the hospital in our hometown.

A few days ago, my wife had her regular doctor’s appointment; and I had to get some lab work done. So I requested the day off from work, and we hoped to get there and maybe have some fun after we finished with the appointments.

We left ten minutes later than we planned to. This meant that we would arrive only twenty minutes early. That’s not early enough for one of us (not me). If there are police officers who are reading this in the future, we did not speed. And since there aren’t any police officers who would waste their time reading this, we may have…

I went as fast as I was comfortable going. Yes, I passed two or three cars on a curvy, hilly two-lane road, but there were dotted lines…on the road somewhere.

We were nearing the neighboring town, and Son #2 started making strange noises. We concluded that his ears were bothering him from going up and down in the Ozark mountains, so Charity gave him a pacifier. It wasn’t his ears that were the problem.

A few minutes later, we hear the unmistakable sound of liquid coming up the esophagus and exiting the mouth. Three minutes later, he stopped, then started again. Then he stopped and started again. And repeated this process innumerable times.

There was nowhere to turn off. Plus, we HAD to make it to the appointment on time. There was no stopping the car or the outpour. Charity tried in vain to catch what she could with wet wipes, to no avail. It was all over his shirt and pants.

For single people, and those newly married with no children, here’s an interesting fact: car seats are not solid. A car seat won’t hold liquid. There are holes all along the bottom of the car seat. It will go right through. There will never be a chance for a car seat to be the cause of your child drowning.

You are correct, a baby’s head isn’t even remotely close to its rear end, but at least the baby-bottom-holding portion of the car seat drains — for whatever reason — onto the seat.

Our vehicle seats are made up of several pieces of leather. These pieces of leather have stitching that holds them together, yet that stitching is not nearly tight enough. It is not liquid-proof. There’s a foam cushion underneath the leather. My experience with foam is that it catches and holds liquid very well. You can conclude the rest on your own if you dare.

I reach around and get a blanket to lay on the leather seat, you know, to soak up the excess liquid that the car seat is efficiently draining onto the leather. Because God forbid, it should stay in the car seat where it would be much easier to clean up.

We finally make it to the doctor’s office. Charity and Son #1 go in. I stay in the car to clean up Son #2.

We have two more appointments after this, and we ALL have to go to the next one.

They finish with the first appointment. We have one hour to rush across town, buy new clothes at T.J. Maxx for Son #2, get lunch, then hurry back across town for the next appointment.

While Charity is in the store buying new clothes for Son #2, I rush to McDonald’s for McChickens and French fries. I hurry back to the store to pick her up.

On the way out of the parking lot, Son #1 commences an outpouring of liquid onto everything around him. Charity can’t reach him, we’re in the middle of a highway, and there’s no hope of getting out and letting him generously liquidate his contents onto the asphalt.

By this point in time, the car smells…odd. There’s just something about McChickens, French fries, and puke aromas swirling together like that. Still, I hadn’t had anything to eat. Nothing is stopping my hunger. We rolled down all the car windows and ate lunch en route to our second appointment while we laughed and cried simultaneously. It was a day.

Did we have clothes to change Son #1 into? No.
Did we have time to go back and buy new clothes for Son #1? No.
Did he go into the hospital with just a hoody and liquid-soaked jeans? Yes.

We had some essential oils in the car. We poured peppermint, lemon, and patchouli all over the jeans. What. A. Combo. But it’s better than puke.

We finished the other appointments, ate supper, and headed home. By this time, my head was pounding.

Charity needed a few items at the grocery store, so we stopped on the way home. I’m sure you can understand why we stayed in the car.

She had only been in the store for about four seconds when Son #1 exclaimed loudly, “DADDY! I have to go to the bathroom!”

“Son, can you hold it?” I was hopeful.

I looked back at him. His eyes are wide and staring wildly at the ceiling; his mouth is twisted into a full grimace.

At that point, I realized how dire this situation was.

I jump out of the still-running car. I immediately jump back into the car to turn it off.
Back out again, I go to the door of Son #2, who smells like rotten eggs, and unbuckle him.
I rush around to Son #1 and coax him out of the car, trying not to jostle him in any way.

Son #1 is holding his head back as far as he can; his gait is altered slightly as his right arm is behind him, holding onto the seat of his pants.

I tried to get him to run, but he wouldn’t. Charity met us and helped him zigzag the rest of the way to the restroom while I held Son #2 and paid for the groceries.
Our hopes and dreams were dashed upon reaching stall 3.

Charity met me at the register with downcast eyes, shaking her head.
“We didn’t make it.”

I wrapped my arms around her, half showing support and half needing support.

“Well, at least we have milk and eggs for the rest of the week.”

The moral of the story?
Always pack extra clothes, wet wipes, blankets, a battery-operated wet/dry vacuum, scent control, and gas masks whenever you take a little road trip with small children. No matter where you’re going.
Leave the night before, stay in a hotel, and don’t stop at Walmart.

And because children always seem to smash them to smithereens in public, you may want to leave your pride and dignity at home.

to the parents whose child just peed in the parking lot,
– Caleb