My first instinct was to cry because it had been a ridiculously hellish week and in the hurry to leave I hadn't grabbed my diaper bag, but then my motherly instinct kicked in — I needed to get the package. I walked into the post office and asked for my parcel. I have never seen a clerk move so quickly. After a bath, a shower, a load of laundry, and a trip to the dry cleaners, the situation was resolved. And, my kids were dressed and ready for their holiday portrait the next day.
Have you ever had one of those days where you actually believe there's a chance you could be eaten by a shark and struck by lightening because everything else has already gone wrong? That happened to me recently. After my car died and I was stranded without a charged cell phone waiting for a tow, I found a wet postal slip stuck to the garage floor saying that the holiday outfits I ordered for my kids needed to be picked up before closing. Since we were scheduled to have their picture taken the following day and time was ticking, I popped my baby in the car and flew over to get the goods. After circling a congested street several times and finally finding parking, I got my son out only to realize that he had a diaper explosion and liquid excrement had seeped up to his neck. The poop also now covered most of my coat.