That being said, I present my whoopsie moment:
First, let me set the scene... St. Patrick's Day, 2008. Nut had just turned 3 weeks old and was sporting THE cutest shamrock covered sleeper, complete with a hat that proclaimed LUCKY CHARM across it. DH's grandma's sister's sister-in-law (or something like that) had passed away over the weekend and it was deemed that we were to attend the visitation in a town about 35 minutes away from us. DH and I went back on forth on the best way to save time and get there and finally decided that I would drive him back to work on lunch so I could pick him up when he got off and we could leave directly from there.
Fast forward to 3pm. I get a text from DH telling me he wants to stop by home when he gets off instead. Whatever. I finish getting ready and load up the wee babe to go pick him up from work. When he gets in the Jeep, he looks me over, and says, "Oh. Nevermind about going home if you're all ready. It's not a big deal. Let's just go straight there. Do you have a bag for R?" I told him I had a full bottle and some wipes and diapers in my purse, but not the actual diaperbag. "We should be fine," I told him. Oh how very very wrong I was.
We had no more than walked into the funeral home when we were greeted by my in-laws.
"She looks kinda red in the face, what's she doin? Shittin'?" my ever-eloquent FIL asked. I looked down and he was right.....then I smelled her. Good Lord, the child coulda gagged a maggot. I lifted her out of her carseat, grabbed my purse, and took her into the bathroom. When I walked in and saw our reflection in the mirror, I panicked. Poop. All over the back of my sweet baby's clothes, clear up to her neck. This was my first blowout and I had NO idea where to begin cleaning up the haz-mat that was my child. There was no changing station in the bathroom so I wound up having to lay her on the sink, praying nobody would come in and witness the horror of my shit-covered newborn. I used all the wipes I had and she was still half brown. I used all the papertowels they had in the bathroom and she still wasn't clean. Not knowing what else to do, I WASHED MY BABY IN THE SINK. Seriously. Desperate times call for desperate measures, people. On a side note though, let me just say my actions are precisely why public restrooms gross me out. You don't know what people have been doing in there.
I finally got her all cleaned up and into a new, fresh diaper. It was then that my stomach dropped. I had no diaper bag which means I had no change of clothes. What. the. hell. I tried washing out what she'd been wearing before but that was pointless. With no other choice, I wrapped her up in a receiving blanket, slapped on a bib that said "Beauty Queen" across it and took her out of the bathroom. I handed her over to my in-laws after hearing all about "first time mother" mistakes (thanks people, I already feel like enough of an a-hole) and got in line with DH to pay my respects. A few minutes later, I hear bits and pieces of the conversation of the women in front of me: "Who brought a naked baby to funeral? It's 30 degrees out!" I shrugged my shoulders and looked away. It would be the first (but not the last) time that I didn't claim my own child.
So, there ya go. My Whoopsie moment. Now, who else is going to join in? Come on, all the cool kids are doing it! Go HERE to read about it and DO IIIIIT!