The Most Epic Bathroom Stop Ever

The kids and I just returned from an almost-two-week adventure to western PA to visit my family. It was a whirlwind visit full of friends, a Children's Museum, a birthday party, a wedding, a fantasy football draft (keep the dream alive, gentlemen), and more. While not exactly restful, it was refreshing, like a deep cleansing breath. I have returned ready to collapse in exhaustion organize and pack for our big move in just over three weeks.

With three children under four years old, not all moments were equally refreshing. Some were chaotic, a few were downright laughable in their absurdity. The following story relates one of those moments. And yes, I made a note in my phone so that I would remember to tell you about this, dear readers, because this was one of those tales that must be told. And since the kids are taking awesome naps today, no doubt because of our little chat on self control during story time, I have the opportunity to share it.

We had stopped for gas somewhere in the middle of PA. The details escape me, but I do know that it wasn't the time when I had only four miles left on my gas gauge and the good Lord dropped an exit out of nowhere 1/4 of a mile up the highway. The things we do to preserve car naps - why, yes, I did drive past a perfectly good exit with several functioning gas stations, with under 20 miles til empty. Only to discover that the next exit (only seven miles away, they said; you can get off the highway there instead, they said) had NO SERVICES. We were running on fumes and prayers that time.

But no, this wasn't that time. This was the time with the yellow jackets. It started minimally enough - Joel was pumping gas, and suddenly flung his sandal off of his foot at me. "What?!" "There was a yellow jacket by my foot." Oh. Ok. Aside from my questioning his aim (do I look like I need a flying sandal followed by a stinging insect in my life?), that was that.

A few minutes later, I pulled the van over to a parking spot so that I could sit and feed Oliver. Joel took Isaac along for a bathroom visit. Rather than keep the car running for the A/C, I decided to roll down the windows a bit. We began to nurse, and M had the run of the car because reasons.

Suddenly, M was freaking out and trying to leap from the front passenger seat into my lap or the CD player or wherever she could get to. Mind you, I was holding a peacefully nursing infant. This limits the mobility somewhat, particularly within the confines of a bucket seat with a steering wheel. So she's shrieking, and I'm going, "What? What?", trying to convey a sense of urgency and helpfulness while not disturbing my baby. "There's a bee!!!" she yelled. Sure enough. So now, nursing baby, steering wheel, freaking out three-year-old, and a yellow jacket. It was like one of those silly songs ("there's a frog on the bump on the log in the hole in the bottom of the sea") except with more danger and very, very real.

Somehow with no arms, I managed to eradicate the yellow jacket, calm the child, and roll up the windows. I will accept my Mother of the Year award at a later date (wait til you hear about the way I reached and returned my screaming baby's pacifier while driving down the highway). For now, imagine me continuing to nurse and accepting the new, warmer, stuffier atmosphere inside the van. And then?

"I have to poop! I have to poop!" I'm not even kidding. But don't fret, gentle reader, we have a small potty that we take in the van on long rides for just such an occasion. What mother wouldn't volunteer to be stuck in a confined space with recycled air with their child's waste, amirite? So M dropped her drawers and made it in time. But then. My eyes slowly began to water as the oxygen content of the van dropped precariously.

You know what's an awesome choice to have to make, while STILL nursing a baby behind the steering wheel of a minivan? Yellow jackets or muggy poop air. Which will be my immediate future until my husband finally returns from his apparently epic journey through Middle Earth to Mount Gas Station Bathroom? (P.S. WHAT IS HE DOING IN THERE?)

I decided to gamble with the yellow jackets. I mean, what were the odds that that same little bugger was hanging around just waiting to make my life a wailing, flailing nightmare again?

Yeah. And he brought a friend.

So, the muggy poop air cleared out a bit, but a moment later M's high-pitched Mommy Alert System was back in full force, notifying me of not one, but TWO BEES!! IN THE CAR!! Oh sweet mercy. I begged the yellow jackets with my eyes to return from whence they came, because at least if I could refrain from shrieking and jumping, then we wouldn't add a screaming baby to the mix. File that under "last thing I freaking need right now, or ever". Apparently they did fly out the window because they aren't still there, and as I again telepathically rolled up the windows (I guess? I was still nursing Oliver?), Joel finally emerged from the Gates of Mordor Sunoco. He was carrying a small bag of snacks, by way of explanation for why it took him three days to get to the bathroom and back. You would admire my self-control; I didn't even chuck the baby at him and run away in tears.

Yes, twenty ounces of Sprite and some Cool Ranch Doritos TOTALLY made up for my having to battle the Death Eaters by myself (great, now I am mixing my epic movie references). At least I survived to tell about it! And to make up for my great travail, Joel volunteered for potty dumping duty (wait, did he volunteer, or did the look in my eyes leave him no choice? I'm not sure.). At the end of the day, thankfully, nobody was stung, and no accidents were had.

All in all, then, I guess I'd call it a success. Bahahaha.