Okay. I can do this. We. Can. Do. This. We WILL do this.
That's right, Jena. Pretend like you have any kind of control over this situation.
I mean, it's just one meal. People with babies eat at restaurants all the time. It can't be that hard. You're eating food... just with a baby. Hopefully not a crying baby. We don't want to be those guys. But sometimes she just needs to cry. Or fart. Or poop. Or something. Maybe we should pick a loud restaurant or go to McDonald's so we'll still feel superior to everyone else even if our baby is screaming her head off.
Okay, okay. Getting off topic here.
Do I have everything? 8 extra outfits? 4 blankets? An entire box of diapers? Check, check, definite check. Damn, forgot the pacifier. Lord knows we're gonna need that. Unless we don't. Does she even like this thing? She's smart. Too smart. It's like she knows we're just placating her and cruelly holding off the tap. She'll learn, right? I mean, this boob buffet line has to have some points in the day where it's no longer open for business. Speaking of which, did I grab my nipple shield and hooter hider? Yes. Okay. I think we're set. Glad I just wasted ten minutes to get our crap in the car.
Man, she sure is adorable. Good job, loins. That headband. Kill me, it's so cute! Is it acceptable to not be as well dressed as your six-week-old? No? Well, I put on deodorant today to mask the crusty milk smell I've been rocking lately. Winner, winner.
Okay, we're leaving now. I've got her, our million bags, if only I could find my keys... Are they in my purse or diaper bag? Ugh, I got set everything down to search. Why do I keep switching between bags? Your purse is now going to hold diapers instead of unreasonable amounts of lipgloss. Just deal with it, Jena. Alright, found them. How did they end up in her diaper caddy? Sheesh.
This is great. Nothing can go wro... Oh noooo. Is that... is that...? Please Lord, do me this solid and tell me there isn't a solid sitting pretty in my daughter's new outfit... Hoooooly Toledo. How in the world? I set you down for two seconds! Even I can't poop that fast, and Grahm calls me the phantom pooper. Okay nobody panic. She's crying, but understandably so since World War II just happened in her drawers.
I'll just set her on the ground and change her real fast. Ahhh. It's all over everything. The Niagara Falls of poopy diapers. Oh crap. Crap just got all over our cream-colored rug. Not good, not good. Some people's dogs poop on their rugs, abut not us. Nope. Just our children.... Poor baby. She's going crazy. It's all over her outfit. And my hands. And her back...
Oh screw it, let's just order a pizza.