July 22, 2002 - 2:39 p.m.
When I worked as a troubleshooter and IT tech for the county library system, I learned quickly to be prepared for anything - from genuine software failures to simple ignorance to the lady who routinely deleted lines from the autoexec.bat because she thought it would make the computer boot faster. In short, I made having everything on hand for every call for help an art form.
This is not so easy for the professional mother.
This morning started off peacefully enough. Marcus woke me at 3 am... and 4:30 ... and 5:45 ... and 7:00. He must be hitting a growth spurt. I hope it's just a growth spurt. So I was pretty bleary-eyed even when Zachary awoke at 8:30. This perhaps explains how I botched Solo's nail trim a little later on.
Solo is a placid dog most of the time and, as it's been a while since his nails have been cut and the click click click of his paws on the hardwood floor was started to get on my nerves, I decided to take a moment while Marcus slept in his bassinet and Zachary sat on his potty watching Play with me Sesame to cut them.
Here was my first mistake: I broke the cardinal rule of parenting. Never do anything that might consume your time or attention while your toddler is diaperless.
I slipped or Solo moved. Solo yelped and blood welled out of his nail. After a moment of trying very hard not to say words I don't want my children to repeat, it finally occurred to me to apply direct pressure. I ran to the kitchen for paper towels, but the roll was empty. I had to search through the pantry and rip through two layers of shrink-wrap (why on earth do they waste packaging like that?) to get to a new roll, all the while telling Zachary to go back and sit on his potty, which was pointless because my panic is much more interesting to watch.
So there I was, sitting in the floor holding a wad of bloody paper towels to my dog's paw, trying to convince my son to sit on his potty before he pees on the carpet and, you guessed it, the baby woke up with a full diaper and an empty tummy and wanted them both fixed immediately.
I gave up on the paper towels and grabbed a box of Band-Aids out of the cabinet. Don't ask me how I expected them to stick. But I gave it a go anyway. I took four or five to devise a decent method. Solo took pity on me and didn't try to get away, even though it meant the humiliation of Winnie-the-Pooh bandaids on his paw. Zachary, however, peed on the carpet.
