A Tale of Motherly Humiliation, in 17 Emojis
I don’t know about you, but I feel like a huge part of life is having experiences that make you look around at your people and say, “Excuse me, but did nobody think to tell me it was going to be like this?” And there’s no time this is more evident than once you’ve become a parent. Go ahead and check your dignity at the door when you show up at the hospital to have that baby: because the physical humiliation, be it pooping on the delivery table or having everyone in the operating room staring at your guts while you’re opened up, is NOTHING compared to the emotional humiliation you will sustain as that baby grows. Dignity, FARE THEE WELL!
Internet, I have enough of these scenarios to fill the pages of more books than Harry Potter. And I only have two children. (JUST IMAGINE how many books Michelle Duggar could write!)
Yesterday I had to make a return at J.Crew. I was exhausted and frumpy looking after wrapping 3 days of shooting with Better Homes & Gardens. I had Archer with me, which wasn’t exactly ideal – he was an fussy, hangry ticking time bomb ? – and really, I was too (HAHA). After standing around awhile, a vaguely harried-looking sales associate came out from the back room to help at the cashwrap. Archer is strapped down in his stroller, with all necessary 5 points of the harness in full lock-and-load position. He’s squawking – loudly – like a crabby parrot, and my brain is in multitaking overdrive.
Yes, I have a return. Yes, I have a receipt. No, Archer, don’t climb out of your seat. Do you want your sippy cup? No, don’t throw it! And then I remove the sippy from his hands and stick it in the back of the stroller. Then, in a particularly violent backwards flopping motion, Archer somehow manages to send the cup flying and it pops open with a bang on the floor of J.Crew, immediately creating Lake Sippy right there on the wood floor.
All the emojis: ???????
Uhhh, Cashwrap Dude? Yeah, we just spilled our drink all over the floor. ?
Cashwrap dude grunts. ?
I begin to look around at what I have available to start mopping it up. Nothing. No blanket. No spare clothes. All I’ve got are wet wipes (counterproductive) and a bunch of clean diapers. But wait! What’s more absorbent than a diaper?! ?
And so that’s when I also pretty much returned my pride along with a couple of Jackie cardigans and began sopping up the sippy cup mess with two CLEAN diapers. Squatting right there, in shorts! YES! So much glamour! I sure did unfold the first diaper, and mopped up the mess, absorbent side down. ? The only thing more humiliating would have been using a maxi pad. ? I smiled ☺️ and carried on as if it were PERFECTLY REASONABLE that I am doing this. Meanwhile, Cashwrap Dude is processing the return as if it is entirely normal that I have disappeared from the opposite side of the counter.
Archer, of course, finds this to be extremely stimulating to find his mother booty-side-up swishing his diapers around on the floor of J.Crew like some kind of mopping maniac. ?
And then as I rose up from the floor to claim my receipt, I smiled as if OF COURSE i didn’t just use DIAPERS to mop up the floor in J.Crew. ? No. That was absolute brilliance. A motherhood HACK! Martha Stewart would have done no less in my position!
And then I held up my head and hauled it on outta there like this: ?
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