It Might be Funny Someday...

Today we took a temple trip to Nauvoo.  First time with the baby.  It's an all day thing with a child: two separate sessions (which are each 1 hour and 45 minutes) plus the two hour drive there and back.  When you're nursing, that's means feed before you leave, when you get there, before you come home, and when you get home. 

So...we get to Nauvoo and Brendon goes into the temple.  Henry and I go to a building for small children to play.  I ask for a nursing room and the missionary tells me to nurse in any room and she would keep people out of the room.  Minor problem: a new missionary couple takes over.

I feed Henry for what seems like forever and in walks some friends from Kirksville.  A mom with two small children.  No big deal.  Then, the husband comes in.  That was a new experience for me, nursing with another man other than family in the room.  I should have selected a different room, but really, not a huge deal, right?  I mean, we're all mature adults.  I tried to keep my cool, but honestly, it was a little awkward.  New mother.  New experience.  That's all.

Henry finishes eating and starts pooping.  I chant my regular, "Good job, Buddy!"  And several poops come out.  I stand up to change his diaper, look down, and there's something on my skirt.  Not just one something, several somethings lining from the top to the bottom of my long skirt.  I see poop on Henry's cute thighs dripping onto my skirt (I always take his pants off to nurse to keep him more awake).  Great!  I thought I was prepared by bringing an extra pair of clothes for Henry...didn't think about bringing an extra outfit for me!  I'm trying to hurry and clean up because we're supposed to be meeting Brendon soon to swap and there's little time from when Brendon comes out to when I need to go in.  Yeah, I still had to go into the temple--and without hot water and my bottle of Shout that I have come to love, there is no way I can get the baby poop out of my skirt.  Starting off to a good first long trip away from home...

Oh, it gets worse.  Much worse.  I come out of the temple, happy as can be to my cute husband in the back of our car, holding the baby.  I say, "Oh, is he awake?!?"  He replies, "He's starving."  My heart sank for the both of my boys.  "He's been hungry for an hour."  My heart sank again.  "I'm so sorry!"

(I meant to bring a bottle, but forgot it. I honestly thought Henry would be fine.  He's been going four hours in between feedings for the past few days.  But not today.  Not after a major poopy diaper, anyways.)

Poor Brendon: desperate times call for desperate measures.  What would you do with a starving baby?  I hope I never experience it.  Brendon got out his orange, peeled it, got a slice and bit it in half and let Henry suck on it.  I was shocked when he told me, but realize it was a very bad situation.  I apologized a dozen times and asked for forgiveness.  (I hope Henry will sleep tonight.)

So, there you have it, our first big trip away from home.  Probably won't happen again, at least not for awhile.  And, when it does happen, I'll be sure to bring extra clothes for the baby, me, and Brendon (just in case), along with a bottle full of yummy milk.

Gotta love being a new parent.  We're still learning...a lot.