I pride myself at being absolutely on top of holidays. I have my gifts, surprises, meals, and outfit planned out three months *at least* in advance of holidays. This might be a bit extreme… but it works for me!
Except for this most recent Fathers Day.
It was an epic failure.
I planned on making this Fathers Day perfect for my husband. After all, he is the father of the year and it was his very first official Fathers Day!
For breakfast I would make him heart shaped french toast with a side of bacon and eggs. This breakfast of course would be in bed, and would be finished before he woke up so I could sneak into the room and wake him up to the smell of warm cinnamon and bacon.
We would then shower him with well thought out gifts that would let him know how much we loved him, and a card filled with words of affirmation, proclaiming he is the best dad and husband alive.
It was all a great plan.
Until it didn’t happen.
The week before Fathers Day was absolutely crazy to say the least, we were still figuring out what to do with out flooded carpet, scrubbing grout, cleaning, and fixing our sprinkler system. I planned on grabbing all my Fathers day supplies on Saturday, the day before Fathers Day, because I knew my husband would be busy at the house so I could grab everything without him suspecting anything.
Just as I had planned we went to our house to work on some things. After we were done, we were SO hungry that we decided to go home and make something… I decided that I would just go out again later in the evening to buy the supplies.
We spent some time together then my husband sat down to play some games with friends and relax. I decided it was the perfect time to go to the store. My plan was working out perfectly. I was cutting it close, but it would be just fine.
I put my daughter in her car seat and we drove to the store. When we got there I took her out, sat her on my hip and we went to find a cart. As soon as we got inside the store I smelled something iffy. My first instinctive thought was to check my daughters Diaper.
Sure enough as I reached down to check I felt warm goop on my fingers… I then looked at the white sweater I was wearing… and was dismayed to see that it was COVERED in poop. My daughter had chosen the perfect time to have an explosive diaper.
I never forget to grab my diaper bag, and ALWAYS carry an extra pair of clothes. I was set! I walked out to the car and to my dismay discovered that the ONE time I forgot to grab her diaper bag was tonight!
I couldn’t put her back in her car seat to bring her home because I would get poop all over it, so I decided the only option I had was to walk into the store and buy a new outfit, diapers, and wipes. I found each item extremely quick. You can imagine my relief. I just had to buy them then run into the bathroom to change her. Then I could proceed to buy what I needed for Fathers Day and go home.
The store was pretty packed, I am guessing I am not the only one who had procrastinated for Fathers Day. I went to what *appeared* to be the quickest register. There was only 1 person in front of me… who just happened to have 98 chapsticks she wanted to buy (I know because I heard the register clerk count them.) He proceeded to ring her up, when the manager walked over and insisted that she count them again just to make sure his count was accurate.
You have got to be kidding me.
She proceeded to count them one by one… I sat in my feces covered sweater, holding my feces covered child and tried to smile at all the people who looked my direction.
FINALLY after what seemed like an hour the manager said, “Alright so we have 98 chapsticks.”
Really? I thought to myself. You wanna double check those again?
Thankfully she didn’t.
I proceeded to buy my items and rush to the bathroom.
As my luck would have it, the bathroom had a line… so I ran out to my car.
FYI: I have a compact car. Compact meaning it is snug. But since it was filled with stuff I needed to move to our new house, snug seemed like to large of a word to describe it. I sat in the one available seat besides my own and attempted to change my daughters poopy diaper while she stood up.
She bounced those chubby legs so much that she sent the poop that was left on her bum bum onto the parts of my white sweater that were still white till I felt like I had no white left. It was dark too which didn’t help, and my car was at the very end of the parking lot so I locked myself in due to being paranoid that some creep would jump in my car because I was parked in timbuk2, limiting my already small space and making it that much tighter…
Rant over.
20 diaper wipes later I had her bum… my car… her legs… my arm… her car seat… my face (okay so that’s an exaggeration but you get the idea) cleaned.
I sat her in her car seat and headed home. I was much too tired, frazzled and discouraged to go back into the store and get everything else. I just wanted my husband. And I was covered in poop…
I needed a shower.
I drove home holding back tears as I realized that by the time I drove home, got my daughter to sleep, showered, and drove back…the store would be closed.
I ruined Fathers Day.
The one day I wanted to make perfect.
I walked inside feeling extremely defeated, my husband saw me and asked what was wrong… all I could do was cry and point at my poop covered sweater saying “I ruined Fathers Day… I need to go back… You need to have the perfect Fathers Day!” He took one look at my feces covered self and proceeded to burst into a fit of laughter.
This did NOT make me feel very good and I was convinced that life as I knew it was over… so I left him and his laughter in the living room and gave my daughter a bath and took a shower.
A little while later my amazing hubby came and checked on me. “You okay?” he asked. I proceeded to break down and vent about all the wonderful plans I had and how now he would never have a good memory of his first Fathers Day and that I had ruined everything when I just wanted to show him how good of a dad he had been to our daughter and husband to me… etc etc. In a way only he can do, he smiled and told me that it was okay and he was the happiest guy alive. He told me that I made him feel like a million bucks every day and he didn’t need presents to know that I loved him. He told me if I felt that bad about it that I could make it up to him on Monday.
I love him.
My daughter and I got in jammies, and snuggled up to the best Father and Husband in the entire world and fell into a deep, sleep, feeling very very blessed.
Because we are.
Beautiful post! Love your writing!