We are having record (or close to) heat up in these parts. As such, we, along with the rest of clichéd suburbia, bought a pool pass for our town pool. This purchase triggered my EXTREME cheapness gene and I now try to get the family to the pool every day. A nice idea, that when executed flawlessly rocks, but, when executed without perfection say, like yesterday, can result in Public Shame. A very fine Public Shame in front of people I know not so well, and only sort of a little bit.
So. Monday. National holiday observed. No one working. We decided (read: I steamrolled the husband) to go to the pool. I needed to find my swim suit and was hoping to find the one that covers my nipples (two babies and coughcough pounds later, this is a bit of a challenge). During my exhaustive search, Boo was in charge of getting Lady Bean in her pool attire. As I am on my hands and knees looking under the bed for a swim suit (I really should have a better system now that we have a pool pass, no?), I yell out "Put LB in her suit and a swim diaper. The swim diapers are in the box of random diapers. They are the pull-up type in the open bag. The unopened bag are the next size up." I was distracted and not paying close attention to either task and, of course, ended up in the overly boob revealing swim suit. HOT. But whatever. All seemed fine and we made it to the pool as a group and in one piece.
Once we checked in, we meandered over to the kiddie pool and Boo, not knowing anyone, sat between friends of a friend with their husbands and another, not part of that group, friend. It wasn't like we could have sat by strangers anyway as the pool, due to the holiday, was JAMMED. Packed. Insane. You know, filled with tons of people needed for a good public shaming. Anyway, I said our 'hellos,' performed introductions and then pretty much ignored everyone but my family.
Basically I was anti-social and we stayed to ourselves. For the five minutes it took me to notice that LB's drawers looked really REALLY full. I mean, honestly, for a diaper to be that full you need a serious bladder/intestinal problem. Or, as it turns out, a foot or so deep kiddie pool. As I watched, through LB's swim suit, Dora the Explorer's head grow and grow on my baby's ass, I realized what happened. When I was barking orders from under the bed, I was a tad unclear on what constituted a swim diaper. Boo, unfamiliar with the box of random diapers, heard "pulled up" and "in the open pack," and grabbed a regular, non-waterproof, pull-up from the open pack of regular non-waterproof pull-ups.
Did you know pull ups bloat like dead beached whales when emerged in water? It was HORRIBLE (though not as horrible as a dead beached whale, but close). LB had a badonkadonk only it was all diaper. I once described a panicked HOLY SHIT WHAT DO I DO? feeling and that is EXACTLY how I felt at the pool. I looked around and didn't think anyone had yet noticed so I whisper-yelled, "WHAT DO WE DO???" to my husband and he's all whisper-yelling back, "I DON'T KNOW!!" After determining that closing our eyes and willing a swim diaper onto LB did not in fact work and after scouring our resources (limited to none), we decide to slink away discretely. Weird after only being there mere minutes, but still better than the alternative, right? And frankly, I am not sure what we thought that the alternative was other than having people notice, point, and laugh. Which was still, you know, not desirable.
So we are gonna leave. Only, of course, LB doesn't want to leave. So she RUNS AWAY. Well waddles because a diaper that full, it cannot be run in it. Of course everyone takes notice of this turn of events. Which means that alternative 'notice, point, laugh' thing, NOW HAPPENING. So there I am, boobs flopping hither and yon in a suit that had no business being seen in public, oh and did I mention I am peeling from a previous sunburn too, chasing my waddling non-swim diapered kid across the foot deep kiddie pool as she is screaming, "NO! NO! NO!" When I do catch her at the OPPOSITE end of the pool, I have to tuck her flailing squirming self under one arm like a purse so I can use the other arm to corral by boobs. Public. Shame.
There is a woman around town who apparently has a big snarfle tooth and a kid that smears poop on random surfaces and she is known as "The Woman With a Big Snarfle Tooth and the Kid That Smears Poop." I fear I am now know as "The White Trash Floppy Boobed Peeling Freak Who Makes Her Kid Swim in Regular Diapers."