Sometimes I think it’d be grand if I could press the rewind button and zip back to when my two kids were still little. But then I give my head a virulent shake. Would I want to relive the entire thing? Thank you but no. I have absolutely no interest in revisiting certain family vignettes.
A case in point? That time my darling boy personally forced the complete shut down and lengthy closure of the ball room at a McDonald’s restaurant.
How?
Thank you but no.
The day started off so well. It was one of those hot sunny days in June where everything is possible; the ideal day to inaugurate the McKenzie family tradition of picking our own strawberries at a local u-pick. My children were the perfect age or so I foolishly thought. My son was almost three and my daughter four. Magical.
We arrived at the farm in high spirits. I’d troweled on their sunscreen and remembered the water and sun hats. We tumbled out of the car and waved away the offer of containers, having brought our own. Each one of us clutched a bucket that matched our size. A veritable three bears montage. Small for my lad, medium for my girl and large for me. I was so proud; I’d thought of everything.
The strawberry fields were impressive. Flat, linear and bursting with juicy, sun-kissed fruit. With few pickers on site we had the luxury of choosing an entire row for ourselves.
“Ok troops. Walk along this row and pick on either side. Look carefully – the strawberries like to hide under the leaves. Please only pick the red ones. I’ll go first so you can watch me for the first little while.”
What a model mommy. We’d pick until our buckets were full and then we’d go home and eat. And bake. And freeze. Our perfect little family would not only enjoy just picked berries over the next few days but we would be enjoying strawberry pie in November and scones with strawberry jam at Christmas. Yep, I was one smug little momma just primed for a fall.
“Mommy. Look at H’s bucket!” ordered my bossy little assistant.
Excuse me? Why were there only six berries rolling around in my son’s bucket? We’d been at it for a good 40 minutes. His sister’s was over half full, mine a good three-quarters. I studied his cherubic face. Normally paler than pale it was currently hinging on fuschia. Particularly around the mouth and lips. The little bugger had been clearly gobbling his way down the row.
I was apoplectic. My back was aching, the sun was beating down and it was long past time to find shade.
“Fifteen minutes. You front. Strawberries bucket only.” I tended to lose verbs when I became evil mommy.
His deeply stained pudgy fingers fell somewhat reluctantly to their task. We lasted just ten more minutes. Enough.
A gallon of water and twenty minutes of driving later I realized I was being rather greedy. Surely my parents would adore a sample of these freshly picked numbers. “Hey guys. Let’s give some of our berries to Gaga and Grandad. We’ll pop into McDonald’s first though so they don’t have to worry about feeding us lunch.” Their backseat cheers were deafening. McDonald’s and grandparents all in one trip? Perfection.
My restored good mood continued after we toddled into the nearest outlet. This one had a ball room! I could slug back a coffee while my two expended their excess energy diving and plunging into the plastic plethora of primary coloured bliss. Indeed, after wolfing down some chicken nuggets and handfuls of fries they settled into some serious play. My daughter practiced her dolphin dives while my son flew down the canary yellow slide multiple times and whizzed about randomly. I leaned back in the hard molded chair, sipped my coffee and grinned over at another mother doing the same. The room was surprisingly full for a mid-week early lunchtime.
“Mommy. H did an uck.” Little Miss Vigilant was right on her game.
Oh well. No worries. He was still wearing diapers.
“Ewwww. Mommy smell!”
Oh. My. God. Just typikel. It was unmistakably diarrhea. A lot of it. I wasn’t alone in noticing. Several parents and caregivers swooped up their startled children and fled for the exit. Strawberry boy had erupted. Mere words can’t convey the collateral damage; not one area of the ball room was left unscathed. Those multiple colours? They’d morphed into one. Mud. Brown. Everywhere. My brain whirled. He had to be changed. The clean clothes were in the car. The staff had to be alerted. They were in the restaurant area far away behind the counter. How to alert them? The right words were crucial. Action had to be swift but I didn’t want to alarm anyone. I couldn’t shout out “emergency” or someone would call the fire department. Kelly make a decision. NOW.
Snatching up my still oozing yet oblivious son I rushed for the door that the one remaining horrified mother was holding open.
“Incident in the ball room. Incident in the ball room!!!”
Three days later, my eyes hidden behind dark glasses, my children’s faces concealed under enormously floppy hats (even though they’d kindly advised me “it happens ALL the time”) we popped by for an update. There was a large handwritten notice plastered on the locked ball room door.
“Closed indefinitely. For disinfection.”
Go back and relive that strawberry day? Thank you but no.
This wraps up my post for Finish the Sentence Friday. The sentence prompt this week was of course “I have absolutely no interest in …” Many thanks to my marvelous hosts Kate’s Can I Get Another Bottle of Wine, Janine’s Confessions of a Mommyaholic, Stephanie’s Mommy, For Real and Kristi’s Finding Ninee. Today’s guest host? Me!
50 Responses
Yes, I would totally rewind, just to hold them in my arms again! As for embarrassing bathroom fiascos – oh my, I could fill a book. Does vomit count? my most recent horrifying moment involved my 13 year old (yes 13!), throwing up on a table at a restaurant, just as we sat down. Didn’t even order anything – just made a mess, and then had to leave!
Oh yes vomit counts. What a special time for you and your 13 year old. So sorry. Yikes. That’s one delight neither of you will forget for a while!
Totally saw the sticking situation coming from a mile away when you said he was snacking on those strawberries. Call it mom’s intuition, but I knew this wasn’t going to end good or smelling good either! I am with you and have a few moments like these, I too would not want to relive even if you paid me! Thanks, Kelly for hosting with us too this week 🙂
Oh it is indeed a special time in so many ways ‘eh Janine? Sometimes when I look back I just smile and think “if I could survive THAT I can survive anything.”
Oh my goodness, that must have been horrifying ! I think I would have a momentary thought of running out, pretending the child wasn’t mine ! Those memories are definitely not worthy of a rewind !
The problem was M. She was determined to make everyone know it was HER brother. Just delightful. I’m sure your J would have been the same! this older sisters do like to take care of their siblings!
Too funny! (Although I’m sure it wasn’t back then.)
Oh Kathy – it was as if the whole thing was happening in slow motion. Looking back now the three of us think it was hilarious. Ok maybe not my son so much …
Do you think your son remembers the actual event (or just you talking about it)?
Very good point. I’m not sure but I’ll ask him. My daughter does remember bits of it. Told me today she wondered why I whistled her out of there so darn quick.
Definitely funny — but only when looking back on it. Love the ending: “closed indefinitely”! Haha!
We didn’t dare to go back to check after that first time. Could have been condemned I mean closed for weeks … Oops.
I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. But I am laughing my ass off. In a way that makes me think it is exercise, stomach crunches, because I am laughing so hard and trying not to because, well I am “supposed” to be working here. But holy crap….it reminds me of the time we took the girls to a Sesame Street Lunch. It came time to take the family picture with Elmo and Boo vomited all over his costume. And when I say vomit I don’t mean spit up but projectile from head to Elmo’s toe vomit.
He had to leave and there were about 20 more kids waiting for the picture.
Thanks for the laugh, I needed it and I apologize it was at your expense.
Ok back at ya. Laughing over here as well. Projectile vomiting all over Elmo? You can’t hide that. Hope to god he had a second Elmo hiding in the wings somewhere. However somehow suspect he didn’t. Lovely to see we’re not alone in the “clean up on aisles 12, 13 14 …” department.
Oh, Lord, no!!! I love that story, Kelly- I was so hoping for one of your trademark tales today and I wasn’t disappointed! I bet it is more fun to relive those disgusting moments from a safe distance of many years… 🙂
Thanks for reading Stephanie. It is so much more fun to relive the disgustingly horrid moments from a safe distance, yes. Sometimes I pinch myself and question if they really happened. Most of the time one of my two can remember bits and pieces and so delightfully reassure me they are true.
OMG…I was laughing loudly while reading this…Although it must not have been a pretty picture for you 🙁
But, looking back now…you sure created some happy/funny memories kelly 🙂
Oh how I wish I could tell you that I’ve told the last of the goofy ones. But I can’t. There are zillions more. If I forget – my two darlings are delighted to remind me …
OMG That is hilarious. I have to admit, I’ve often wondered about something like that, watching all of those children. And, I have to wonder how your dear son feels NOW, reading this on the internet. 🙂
Linda you had me smiling once again with your comment about how my son feels about having this all over the internet. I think I dodged the bullet on it so far. He rarely reads my stuff as it is all old news to him. Let’s just leave it as “our little secret” for now. I’ll advise you if he ever makes a reference to it! Mind you a few of his girl pals read me every once in a while. Maybe they’ll miss this one. It is busy post exam time after all …
Still laughing…..OH MY GOD no I would not rewind….I only had one and she was a handful at that. I so so much more desire to be her friend these days as she is 33 rather than her mommy. Not because of her mind you it was because I could morph into a somewhat mommy dearest at times and so like where I’m at now.
Completely understand this. I too sometimes become somewhat mommy dearest. How lovely you’ve reached the friendship stage. Press that hold button!
Omg, I mean seriously! Tooo funny! What a hoot! OH for goodness sakes. I cannot believe you snuck back into the Golden Arches to scope out the aftermath. So hilarious! Can’t wait for the next post!
Thanks so much for stopping by and reading! Oh how I wish I could say this was just a one off. However, my two have so many more tales like this one and they delight in reminding me …
Great storytelling! This is hilarious, and also had my heart kind of racing because I was imagining what I’d do in your position. Taking kids out in public is always such a gamble, isn’t it? Since I have three, ages three and under, I rarely take them anywhere by myself. It’s almost impossible.
Oh I salute you Kate. Three at three and under. Just think of the wealth of story material you’re creating! Scooter ain’t got nuthin’ on you!
Oh, this was hilarious! The joys of motherhood are beyond counting…
Exactly. They are way beyond counting.
I’m sorry…I’m laughing too and remembering those inglorious poop filled accidents. Like the time we attended a ‘company picnic’ for my husband’s department at a local employee’s farm. I had placed my hubby in charge of our 2 yr old while I headed off for a little ‘girls get together’ in the house. Apparently my hubby didn’t hear the part about me being IN the house. Our little wonder of a child filled his diaper and beyond….poo squishing and squeezing its way down both pants legs…soaking socks and shoes. Why or why he didn’t head for the house and indoor plumbing and me….I’ll never know. He choose to grab the diaper bag and the child and head behind the barn. Trying to clean up a squirming toddler with a handful of wet wipes….I still giggle at the thought of this. Anywhoo sometime later I return to find my husband red faced and babbling incoherently about poo, wet wipes, and just where the hell was I anyway! Ha….well the child still smelled pretty bad so I took him INSIDE to soap and running water and yes…..I would press the rewind button to hold that stinky little squirmy toddler in my arms once more
Read your reply out loud to my daughter. Both of us were in hysterics picturing your husband flying about with wet wipes. SO funny. Thank you so much for sharing this Debbie. You made our Friday night I have to tell you.
Okay Kelly, I am going to be honest. My mind still has a block on remembering anything other than snuggles and smiles, that might be a stamina thing becuase the kids are young and I have years ahead of me. Too many of those “certain family vignettes” rising to the surface now could terrify me for what’s ahead. Mmmmmm back to my snuggles and smiles for now. I do have a good poo on walls story though
Ooooh the veil of mommyhood! Love that it’s still in place for you Karen. However, I would love to hear the poo on walls story. That does have promise.
Yeah, wow. If I could just take moments of it, I might rewind. Just little moments. But definitely NONE of that kinda stuff! Wow. Just glad you survived to tell the tale.
Thanks Amy. Yes, did survive it. However should my son discover that I’ve put this little story out beyond the family I might not survive the weekend … Ha! He never reads me…
Thanks for sharing Kelly. Made me laugh out loud. Oh, the joys of motherhood:)
Thanks for popping over and reading Nancy.
Laughing so hard! Needed that, thanks! My kids are awesome, but no, I do not want a “do over” once was enough! Lol! My son loved to be naked, anywhere and everywhere. While running away from anyone who was trying to put a diaper on him. Many times he would release little rabbit pellets (sometimes not so little) while at a full run, spraying them across the room. Many times people put on their shoes when departing our home to find something extra inside! Eek! We started duct taping his diaper!
But thank goodness he did not like strawberries!
Oh you have no idea how this brought a smile to my face Nikki! Yes! We had to literally sit on our son to change his diaper. Otherwise he’d run naked all through the house. Our tape of choice was hockey tape.
I love that Steph referred to this as “one of your trademark stories” and so it was! My own life experience (and your best posts) taught me to expect greatness of stories that start with: “I was so proud; I’d thought of everything.” 🙂 I also loved your reference to losing verbs in critical moments. That’s genius! You’re wonderful.
Thank you Katia. Your kind words touched my heart. Truly. The verb lossage was a constant side effect of motherhood around my house and my two delight in imitating their poor mother to this day. “Remember when she’d say …” No fear I’ll be allowed to put that gem to rest…
Kelly, what an experience! I would not go back… no way! My daughter was the rubbish bin queen when she was two and my son had colic and diarrhea for the first 18 months of his life.
My daughter was just so curious about what she could find in the rubbish. No bin in the house was safe! I couldn’t let her out of my sight for two minutes. The strange thing was that she was so meticulous as a baby. She hated to get dirty and if she dropped any food on her clothes or found any dirt on her socks or shoes, she would wail until I changed her.
My son, bless him, just had such a difficult start. He was colicky and would have bouts of being covered in poo because of diarrhea. I had many shower moments where I used the handheld shower unit to clean him and me off.
Needless to say, I ended up in hospital four times for exhaustion. She was up all day and he was up most of the night and I was being run ragged from pillar to post. They are not quite two years apart. So, no thanks.
If I remember correctly, there were many times my speech became unintelligible and times when I don’t remember anything for days at a time. Zombie comes to mind! lol!
YOU are a supermom! and such a terrific writer. I love to read your posts. Much love to you! ♥
Oh Jean you have me smiling over here with the rubbish bin stories. We have to put elastic bands on the doors where we store the garbage so our dog doesn’t chow down. Can’t imagine having to be on full alert all the time though! And your son – colicky for 18 months? Ouch. Am amazed your hospital visits were limited to four. Man alive. We won’t be pressing ANY rewind buttons thank you very much.
I will never look at a ball room the same again. Thank you, Kelly, for this new terror. 😉
Hahaha – but Gloria and Daisy love the ball room I’m sure! You’ll have to endure it…
Oh my, you made me laugh my pants off. Totally reminded me on the mommy days ( many days ago) and I agree as much as I miss some of those sweet little ones I wouldn’t go back either!
It is amazing to think that we survived some of these episodes, no?
Not to laugh at your pain, but honestly…this is motherhood, right!?
My favorite part of all of it, though, is how you speak without verbs when under duress. Quick, succint, to the point. Perfect.
You nailed it – “this is motherhood.” No worries about the laughing though. It has become a family classic in the McKenzie household.
Oh I have plenty of regrets, but they tend to revolve around my own behavior, both in my youth and in the life of my motherhood. Particularly the shrieking. I cannot believe that I turned into a shrieker. Sigh.
With you on the shrieking point Kate. Found myself doing that just yesterday. Bubbles up and overflows before I know it. Still can’t believe I’m a shrieker and I’m now 20 years in …