So, if you have been following my adventures for awhile, you may remember this - the account of embarrassing events in public restrooms.
Well, I am back...
Today is Sunday, the craziest of all days for a pastor's wife (especially one with three small children and one on the way). I have already read the hilarious tale of a fellow pastor's wife hanging out in her bedroom this morning as her two small daughters fought over "being the same amount of fancy" in their church dresses.
You can't make this stuff up, folks. It is these hilarious and totally frustrating moments that make this life very funny. You just have to wait a little while for it to seem funny.
It has been a little while for me (about 30 minutes), so I will now share with you The Toddler Potty Tales, Part II.
In the middle of service, my three year old boy said, "I have to pee, mommy." And when he says it, he means it. He has to go NOW. So, I cart all three small ones out the side door, behind the church, outside, through into the Sunday School hall, and into the women's restroom. There we rush him into the potty, and all goes well. "I just need to peepee, not poopy, mommy." Okay, son, pee away.
I ask my four year old boy to use the bathroom while we are in there, and when I turn around the three year old says, "Look at this, mommy. What is this?" He is holding a bottle of nail polish. As I say, "Please put that down," it slips from his hands, breaks into 10,000 tiny glass pieces all over the floor with nail polish strewn about like a terrible bloody mess.
Lord, have mercy. And I don't mean to be using that lightly. I seriously needed His mercy to control myself from curling up to cry on the bathroom floor.
I mean there was nail polish spread all over the floor for about five feet. On a concrete tile floor. In this nicely kept church bathroom. In the middle of a church service. With three small children standing and staring with their mouths gaped open. "Mommy, uh oh. I sorry."
Yeah.
So, I grab some paper towels. I don't know if you have ever tried to clean up nail polish, but if this event ever befalls you, here are some suggestions:
1.) Don't use paper towels. It will just smear it around into an even more ridiculous mess.
2.) Don't clean it up with small children hovering over you.
3.) Just go ahead and curl up on the floor and cry. The tears may help.
As I was trying to smear the mess into a bigger one, my four year old (who is still avoiding using the bathroom) keeps saying, "That isn't better, mommy. Mommy, that is worse. Mommy, just stop."
Just pee, son. Just pee.
So, the paper towels didn't work. Again, I am not sure you have ever tried to clean up nail polish off of a concrete floor, but if you let that stuff dry, it will be like concrete itself. I know this because of years of failed attempts to clean up nail polish from my parents' basement floor. You can't chisel that stuff up. So, whatever I was to do, I was to do it FAST.
I cart my three small children back outside and into the church and sit them in a pew. I walk calmly back to a woman who has watched my children before and I whisper, "Um, my son dropped a bottle of nail polish all over the bathroom floor. Could you sit with my kids while I run home for nail polish remover and bleach?"
She just laughed and said, "No, we will get that later. You don't need to do that."
There is NO LATER. NO TIME! Must act before it turns into concrete!!!!
So, she kindly sat up with my wiggly kiddos while I drove myself home for supplies.
Good thing we live a block away.
I grab nail polish remover, bleach, and bleach wipes. I pray, "Lord, please let these things clean this up. I really don't want to be known for centuries as the pastor's family who spilled the nail polish in the bathroom. Amen."
I get back, and plop my 17 week pregnant body down, full church dress and all, next to said spill. I proceed to pour an entire bottle of nail polish remover over the floor. Then, I quickly realize, I NEED SOME AIR TO BREATHE!!! I turn on the fan and prop the door.
Back to spill.
I grab 10,000 paper towels and all I can think is, "Somebody needs to introduce Jamberry into this church."
Thanks be to God! That nail polish remover was sent from Him.
There is still a faint pink tint inside the cracks of the tiles, but I ain't complaining about that. So, I clean myself up - as my hands look like I just butchered a lamb for a sacrifice - and I calmly walk myself back into church in the middle of my husband's sermon.
My kids - better in the pew than they ever are for me.
Just call me a pro. A pro pastor's wife.
