Desperate times call for desperate measures...

Being a mother of a 2 and 3 year-old has challenged me many times over, on a day to day basis (I love being a mother almost as much as I love my two babies, so this is not a complaint--just an observation), and still sometimes it can be a minute-by-minute struggle: Wouldn't it be so much easier to run into the store and grab that milk rather than wake the kids from their carseats and bring them with me? (of course I can't and don't)... I can chase the dog as it escapes down the street and the kids will be okay for a minute (of course not)... Is a spanking what it would take to finally get the message through for the 3rd time that it is not okay to squeeze shampoo out all over the floor? (of course not)... Doesn't it seem obvious that stomping all over a mess while I am cleaning it up is inappropriate--why should I have to even explain that one over and over?... How many times do I have to repeat myself before I will be heard?... How many times will my little one ask the same question--over and over--before he, if ever, accepts my original answer?... If I look half as frustrated as I feel, how is it that they still don't seem to understand and/or care that what they are doing is not okay? Why is it that the more obnoxious the sound, the more it amuses these guys?... How ironic is it that my absolute worst displays of frustration become a part of my kids' everyday repertoire? Why can't my best behavior be the examples from which they follow?...Etc., etc., etc.... Anyway, enough venting, back to the point of this story: the many challenges of motherhood. How many times have I been almost out the door or even strapping my child into the car seat (elated to finally be on schedule), when the smell of a poopy diaper permeates the air? Well, at the county fair this year a similar incident occurred. Our family was awaiting the opening of the Monster Truck show (Rigel's favorite thing in the world second only to trains) when the juiciest of diapers intoxicated the grandstands with its stench. I ran (baby in tow) to the nearest restrooms, none of which had any changing tables or counter tops. No benches or grassy areas were in sight, just crowded dirt pathways and sidewalks... what to do? Behind a line of game booths was a patch of AstroTurf, creeping out from the back of a netted batting cage--better than nothing. I laid my baby girl down and quickly began cleaning her up, unnoticed by all until I heard, "Lady, I thought I'd seen everything!" announced on nearby speakers. It was a carnival MC with his headset microphone joking to the small crowd gathering behind him. And, he was pointing to me. I pretended not to notice, hurried through the diaper change, and covered my baby girl's face as we quickly walked away... Another incident relating to potty breaks occurred while walking out of Souplantion. Rigel found the nearest bush, unzipped his pants, and "whipped it out". "Whoah!" I exclaimed, attempting for the sake of all passerbys to look more surprised than I felt. I explained when and where it was appropriate to relieve oneself, trying not to think about how much this was my fault seeing as I allowed him to mark his territory all over the creation when he played outside--why shouldn't it extend beyond the borders of our yard? And to all the guys at our swim school who were ever trying to relieve themselves in peace, so sorry for my intrusion. I have a 3 year old who loves to feel like a little man and therefore races into the men's room before I can stop him, leaving me to stand guard while poking my head in to check on him (praying he is alone in there, and grimacing when a grown man walks out before my son). I'm sure there is not a mom out there who has not experienced trials similar if not more humorous than those described above.