Diapers, Dance, & Dookies

I came across this old entry from 2008 that I never published. I thought I'd share this older entry with you from my personal diary of life as a mom in an unforgiving world. Enjoy:
We made it to Shelby's dance class on time. One miracle accomplished. When she disappeared into the studio, Ana decided to use her new found voice to try talking to her sister through the one-way glass. The screeching was incredible. This little baby was capable of big noise. I, of course, thought it was adorable. But judging by the disapproving looks from the rest of the crowd, opted to head outside for a walk. The fresh air turned sour the minute we stepped outside. I noticed my hand felt strangely warm and the sweet smell of caramelized baby poop told me this loud crooner had done a dooker. Great. The ONE day we walk to dance class and although my huge purse holds enough contents for a week of survival in the Congo (food, books, silverware, onesies, makeup, diapers, rocks?). I cannot find the wipes. PERFECT. Turning to face the scowling mothers, Ana and I reenter the crowded studio room, followed by the overwhelming stench of her diaper. Thankfully, one woman mercifully noticed my plight and offered help. Thank god the mommy code requires moms of all stages to carry wipes in their car. By the time Ana was clean and poop free, Shelby had finished class. We walked the three blocks back to Foster's before I remembered I'd left the dog in the car. Kiley, our seasoned chocolate lab, has grown accustomed to this type of treatment. She lumbered out of the cramped trunk looking in need of a walk. Feeling adventurous, I decided to head out for one more jaunt to the bank. What could happen in one city block? Just the biggest dog shit of all time dropped on the porch of the nicest building in town. She didn't even bother to hit the lawn. Nope, welcome to Fidelity Title, be sure to watch the shit. And not a bag in site.

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