Someday we’ll all get a big laugh about the time I forgot to put a diaper on Simon when he was in the kid center at the health club. Today may be the day for you to get the laugh; I am going to need more time.
Last night, as I was dropping Sadie and Simon off with the beloved “Carla” who works in the kid center, I smelled something funny in Simon’s pants. (“Funny” as in “fecal” not as in “ha ha.”) I diligently checked his load and changed his diaper, while Sadie immediately started playing with the other kids by stealing their snacks. I gave them both kisses and told Carla I would be back after spin class.
Spin class was transporting me to my happy place. As sweat poured off my brow and onto the floor beneath my bike, I relaxed into a deep cardio reverie. I didn’t notice at first when the health club fitness director walked into class with her walkie-talkie (is that thing really necessary?), but I did see her whisper something to the teacher, who promptly reacted by turning down the mash-up of “Moves Like Jagger” and “We Are Young.” She asked if there was anyone by the name of “Outlaw Mama” present. Turns out I was needed in the kid center.
Is it wrong that my first thought was not about the safety and well-being of my children, but about my abject disappointment that I wouldn’t be able to climb that last hill with the class?
Still out of breath from
being almost 40 pushing myself during class, I gathered my things and made my way to the kid center. When I turned the corner and saw Carla peering out of the door I felt the nauseating elixir of fear and shame. When I was still eight yards away, Carla shouted to me, “You forgot to put a diaper on Simon!”
What? How is that even possible? I changed him less than 40 minutes ago on the padded changing table in the kid center, right in front of Carla’s eyes. When I got into the room, Sadie confirmed Carla’s statement, “Mommy, Simon pooped, and you forgot the diaper.” Having defecated his diaper-less pants only moments before, Simon was happily chasing an orange beach ball around the room. I picked him up and smelled that “funny” smell again, and then I saw some “funny” stains on his pants. He definitely was not wearing a diaper.
I turned and apologized to Carla profusely. She accepted my apology and said something curious, “It’s ok. I know you are not one of those kind of moms.” In the blur of the moment, I couldn’t process Carla’s statement. Did she mean I am not the type of mom to purposely forget a diaper? Because I think it’s clear that I am the type to accidentally forget the diaper. Actually, I am having a hard time imagining what kind of mom is worse than the one who flat-out forgot to put her son’s diaper on. Which mom is that?