Lemonade Day

The last two times we've gone camping, it's rained overnight. I'm choosing to believe that this last time we stayed dry not because we were in the "better" (albeit smaller) Cabela's tent, but because it was a gentler, steadier, less tsunami-ish rain. At least that's what I'm believing. :) Sassy was pretty upset at the prospect of another storm last weekend so my sister told her that when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. (Of course, Hubby says he prefers Ron White's version of using your lemons to find someone whom life gave tequila. . .) It's a lesson that I struggle with, but as I've said before, it's something I want the girls to understand. "Lucky" for me, we got our chance yesterday.

Maybe we had it coming since it was our only Saturday in about eight weeks that we didn't have plans. So what do we do? Make plans. Why not jet down to the local amusement park for a few hours and let the girls ride? So we headed out. And the farther south we drove, the darker and darker it got. By the time we got there, it was maybe 70 degrees and it wasn't IF it would rain, but WHEN. So we headed to an indoor theater at the park for a show, hoping that an hour later, the weather would be better. The good news--it appeared to be holding off. So we rode the tea cups, and got on another ride. We were buckled up, ready to go and Stinkus pulls out the dreaded: "I have to pooooop. . . ." Ugggh. I asked if she could hold it, and she said her tummy hurt. And thankfully, a little voice whispered at me: GO. So I grabbed her and ran. This is where I should state that while I love the park, I've never understood why there are NO restrooms in the kid section. HELLO park engineers! And of course, the elephant ride is at the very END of the section. So I RAN. Not an easy task when you're carrying 35 extra pounds of weight, it's UPHILL, and there's apparently no limit on strollers and scooters. Seriously people, get out of my way! Stinkus said, "Oh no!" as I threw open the first stall and ripped her shorts down. . . right as I realized why my baby's tummy hurt. I'm already blogging about poop so I'm not sparing you the details. It splattered everywhere. Luckily because she's so newly potty trained, I had the good sense to pack an extra pair of shorts and panties. Which were in my backpack. Which was in a cubby at the elephant ride. I started to call R. . . and realized I didn't have my phone either. I had NO clue what to do with her or how to let R know that I needed the backpack. I was this close to wrapping some paper towels around her and heading out. Dear Park Engineers: If you won't build a closer bathroom, it's only fair to install a clothes dispenser. Size 4T please. I finally looked like a crazy woman and asked the moms at the sink if someone had a cell phone I could borrow. And of course, R didn't answer it because he didn't know the number. Luckily he listened to the voicemail, and in a few minutes, Sassy appeared--which scared me too because she's really too little to be sent in by herself, but I was desperate. A few moments later we were out the door, everything all cleaned up and minus a pair of Dora panties and purple shorts.

After just one ride all morning, we headed for home. The girls were disappointed but surprisingly, they were ok. I just couldn't risk it happening again--especially with no extra clothes. R came up with a great new advertising slogan: "Season Passes. . . in case your day is cut short when you poop yourself, you can come back again!" And we laughed SO hard. Then Stinkus got the saddest little look on her face, blinked her big eyelashes and said: "Sassy, I sorry you not get to wide your whoa-wer coaster," which made me cry. (God forbid when my children ever have real hurts--I hate to see them hurt!) But it was ok. We were making lemonade. I wasn't letting it ruin our day.

We stopped at one of our favorite Chinese restaurants on the way home. I got a great fortune: "Your troubles will soon cease and good fortune will smile upon you." It was partially right. My troubles weren't quite over. First, the ice cream machine at the buffet was broken. WHAT?! And apparently, if you run like a maniac through an amusement park carrying something the size of Stinkus, your legs are REALLY sore the next day. But in the true spirit of making lemonade, I needed to tone up a bit, right?