And so it begins...
Whenever I tell the story of our master bathroom renovation that ended in disaster, I will begin that story with today. Today, the day we drove to Huntersville, near the tony Lake Norman, to purchase this pedestal sink and faucet we found on Craigslist...
...for a mere $35. Did you get that? That was THIRTY FIVE DOLLARS. And no cents.
Unfortunately, we weren't able to get a (free) babysitter for Ethan (and paying for it would have upped the overall cost of the sink, in my book), so he came along. For the two hour round-trip. He fussed almost the whole way there, and we found out why as we took him out of his car seat: He was sitting in a pool of what appeared to be melted butterscotch pudding. I assure you, it was NOT melted butterscotch pudding.
Nice stay-at-home mom selling us the sink: You can change the baby inside if you want.
Me: Thanks. Can you show me where the bathroom is?
Nice stay-at-home mom: Sure. Or you could change him right here in the play room.
Me: Okay, thanks.
Nice stay-at-home mom: We're pretty casual around here. In fact, one of my kids isn't wearing pants. [Enter kid not wearing pants.]
Me: [thinking to self] Bless you, child.
One of Ethan's party tricks is that whenever we set out on a journey that's farther than 15 minutes, he gets really stressed out and expresses that stress by crapping his pants. No, no. Not pooping in his diaper. Crapping in his pants.
On the way home, he was in better spirits, but we had also nearly run out of things to distract him with: a pen, a fuzzy sock from the Goodwill donation bag in the truck, my shoes, the expired warranty book, an empty fast-food cup. At one point I even heard myself say, "Oooooh, Ethan! Looooook.....it's the CD CAAAAAASE." He seemed to be taking the bait, but as I cried, "Isn't this fun?!" Sarah McLachlan's Surfacing whizzed past my head.
By minute 13, I had run out of options, so I gave him...Now, don't judge me, I WAS DESPERATE...I gave him............my bra. Just hold on a minute, okay!? Only you parents out there can understand the desperation at the prospect of an hourlong car trip full of screaming that would lead one to think giving a toddler your supportive undergarments would be a good idea.
But you know what? IT WORKED! For the next thirty minutes, I saw that bra turn into a yarmulke, a scarf, Princess Leia hair, a necklace, a surgical mask, elephant ears, a resistance training band, and at one point I think I even saw a complicated full-body interpretation of Cat's Cradle.
All in all, I consider today a success.