me&jenSo, there we are, in an upscale restaurant, having a drink, watching my hubby drum away, when suddenly, yep – that smell.  We all know that smell (parent or not).  Dane pooped.

Dane’s six. He has Cerebral Palsy and, at this point in time, still uses a diaper.  As his Mom I do hope he can start holding it til we get home, but we’re just not there quite yet.

He simply – pooped.

My husband, my wingman, was playing the drums, ON STAGE.  He couldn’t stop mid-set to help me haul my 55lb son to the potty so I turned to my visiting sister, fresh in for the holidays.

God bless her heart.  She has no kids, but always loved them.  When we were teens, and I showed up to babysit instead of my sister, the light in the kid’s eyes would go out – immediately.

I looked at my sister, the woman I sadly saw only once a year, and gave her the ‘Holy crap, help me’ look.  She responded immediately, never flinching.

I counted to three, lifted my gorgeous baby boy from his wheelchair and swiftly swept him up, carrying him to the rear of the restaurant.  Jen moved quickly in front of me, turning the restroom doorknob.

Locked.  Damn.  Dane wriggled uncontrollably in my arms.  Double damn.  Jen turned back to me and grinned watching my 110lb frame grip my 55lb boy tightly.

We waited for the nice man inside to come out.  He felt bad as he looked at us thinking he could have somehow been quicker.

In we went.  No changing table, figures.  No biggie considering most could no longer hold Dane’s weight anyway.  Jen looked to me for instruction.

“Grab paper towels and lay them on the floor” I instructed.  She did just that.

I laid Dane down.  “Now grab me the wipey’s.”

“Uuuh. I didn’t grab them but there’s these wet-ones here that the restaurant put out.”

“Great!” I said.  “Grab em.’”

Her face grew dead serious.  “Oooooh. There’s only one left.”

A moment of panic set in, but quickly faded.

“OK, grab up some paper towels and wet them.  We’re going in!” I assured her.

And so we did.  We cleaned him up.  We held his legs as he seemed to breakdance across the slippery floor in his cotton shirt sliding against the dry paper towels…

Dane giggled.  It was funny. Come on. How could it not be?

So we took slightly longer than usual, but we did it.  We figured it out. 41 and 42… we figured it out.  Man I’m proud of my family, my sister, my kids…

We don’t wait for something to happen.  Things happen and we react.  When it comes to my boys there seems to be an unspoken transition between ‘Holy Crap’ and ‘Let’s do this’.

Jen can be my wingman anytime.