Target Sequel

James and I decided to take the boys out to Target today. Thanks to Becka and her mad tax skills, we actually had the means to buy stuff. Yeah baby! So, here we are trudging along, and somewhere in between baby formula and Hungry, Hungry Hippos (yeah, it's so exciting to go to the store when you have kids) I start to smell a very distinct, all too familiar, infant sewage brewing. I was somewhere in between the good-mom-go-change-it-now mood and the pretend-I-think-it-might-be-gas-and-investigate-at-home mood. If we had left Target that very moment, I would have gone with the latter, but, alas, there was too much to do and too much to smell.
James and I split, I went to the car to get the diaper bag for a very routine diaper change.
Now dial it back a few hours. In packing for our weekend trip to Oneonta, I removed one of our portable wipes containers from one of our diaper bags. Guess which one I took to Target? Bingo.
Meanwhile, back on the ranch, Ethan has loaded his pants in a very real way. Based soley on his size, you know he is a big eater, and big eaters make big stinkers. So I'm seriously torn. I could go down to the baby aisle and buy a thing of wipes, even though I just bought about a thousand at BJ's, or just make do with wet paper towels. I know I am going to catch some "second kid" flack for this, but I opted for the paper towels. It just made more sense.
Now, there is no very good way to get a shopping cart into the bathroom. Probably mostly due to the fact that you aren't supposed to bring them in. But I wasn't about to leave Ethan's carseat in the middle of customer service, so in we all went.
In the end, I park my cart so that it is blocking off 2 sinks and a dryer, but since there are 7 total, I don't worry too much about it. This is a pivotal moment for me and my young son-- the discovery that there is not a single paper towel in the entire bathroom. Stupid green initiative. At this point I have come too far to turn back and buy wipes, so I make the decision that I know will be a bad one. I grab a fistfull of toilet paper, wet it in the sink, and cross my fingers.
Now, anyone who has changed a really sloppy diaper knows that no good can come from this. I am very soon low on toilet paper, even after using the diaper itself to scrape off as much of his tooshie as I can. I am forced to run into stalls for seconds or thirds, thankfully it wasn't a busy day and it was easy to be discreet. Thank goodness also, for the placement of my shopping cart. Originally thought to be a liability, it helped to deter people from wanting to come see the baby. I could see the old women sneering and shaking their heads in disgust. I was grateful for it; I have found that if there is anything worse than being unprepared, it is being unprepared with an audience.
Over on the changing table, life is getting messier by the minute. Ethan seems to have taken his own green initiative. I won't go into too much detail, as some may have weak stomachs, but suffice it to say that a battle had been faught, and a battered trail of bunched up toilet paper bits graced my young boy's bottom as I fastened on his new Luvs.
As I am washing my hands and scrubbing down the changing table (yes, it was that bad), I am secretly wondering why I didn't swish him around in the toilet instead. Oh well, there is always next time.