At least nobody barfed on me

My Sunday morning was so pleasant.  I woke up on time, Emma was a jewel, and Darren looked super sexy in his suit, per the usual, as we scrambled out the door to make it on time (um...we weren't on time. but we tried!).

Then we got to church.  And my shoe broke.

I was wearing these really worn-out old platforms that I love quite a lot, but the sole of the righty broke away from the platform part.  Darren offered to adjust lefty to match, so I went on to the bathroom to stash the carseat, all the while thinking to myself, "Seriously? We just got here.  I have three more hours to wear these broken shoes...".

I was feeling pretty sorry for myself. But, in walked Tessa.

Tessa is my cousin's wife, and she came rushing into the mothers' room portion of the bathroom soaked in vomit and toting a rotten little one year-old cutie in her arms.

I stopped feeling sorry for myself.

I put Emma on the floor with a rag toy to chew on and helped to clean up little Ava.  Tessa was considering driving home (a 40 minute drive) to change clothes and bathe her little one, and then come back.  I offered to give her my keys and send her to my apartment (5 minutes away) for a change of clothes instead.  I was feeling pretty good for having such a helpful suggestion, and proceeded into the chapel, where I found her poor husband still wiping barf up from the carpet during the opening song.  I sat for about 2 minutes when it occurred to me that I could actually be helpful and go with Tessa to my apartment.

I can't lie, I felt pretty dumb for having that realization so late.

I handed Emma to Darren, quickly explained where I was going, and ran back out.

Fast forward to the end of the story: Tessa was rocking one of my maxi dresses (seriously, I never look that cute in it!), Ava (freshly bathed) was wearing an oversized 2T that has waiting in a box for Emma to grow, there was a tightly closed Walmart bag of vomit covered clothing in the verrrrrrry back of the car, and I had an opportunity to change shoes!

(side note: I didn't change shoes.  When I told Darren I was going home with Tess, he looked really sad and said, "Mannnnn, I was so proud of that one!", while pointing to my left foot.  I told him I would pretend that I forgot to change them ;) )

Moral of the story? Your day is never as bad as you think it is, especially if you haven't been barfed on!

Other moral of the story? If you have a feeling or prompting, listen to it! Leaving Emma with Darren would never have worked if I hadn't brought a sippy cup with milk in it.  She would have been screaming bloody murder way before I returned.  All last evening I felt like I needed to take milk to church, and this morning I still felt prompted to get out of bed and pump before Emma woke up so that we could take the right amount.  I'm very glad I listened!