Oh, what a moment...

The most recent event of my chaotic existence has brought me to the understanding that no matter how prepared for anything you are, you are never fully prepared.  Today started with D having to leave for church a little early, which in turn left me alone to get Fuss ready and take him to church.  This normally wouldn't be a big deal except that it was also my turn to do sharing time for the primary children, so I had props and handouts and such.  Therefore my arms were very full.  One member of our ward even commented that when we come to church, we move in...that is how much "stuff" I had.  It wasn't until we were actually at church that I realized that I did not have a binky anywhere for Fuss.  I diligently searched through my purse, my primary bag, and the diaper bag, but it was nowhere to be found.  I went out to the car, looked under the seats, around the car seat, on the ground...no binky.  There was no way that Fuss was going to make it through 3 hours of church without his binky, so D went home to get one.  There I sat, all flustered thinking about how unprepared I was, how could I forget a binky?  Did I not know the 5 B's of leaving the house (Bag, Blanky, Binky, Baba, Baby)?  D was back only about 5 minutes, when I also realized that I had also forgotten to pack his scriptures (yes, I know...I forgot--because evidentially it is my responsibility to bring my husband's scriptures to church for him), and I had forgotten the information that one of the scouts requested for help in doing his Eagle Scout project.  I started to think I was losing brain cells this morning.   Since I had also forgotten to feed Fuss breakfast before we left, and he had thrown his sippy (aka Baba) on the ground in the parking lot and the lid had popped off, his milk was nearly gone before the first hour was even half over, and I had also forgotten to pack juice.   Truly this was not my best day of preparation.  I told D I would run home this time.  I would grab the papers for the scout, get D's scriptures, and refill the empty sippy.  Little did I know that refilling the sippy would lead to my most unprepared for moment of the day so far.  I say "so far", but I am hoping for the day completely!  

Shortly after I returned, Fuss was fussing, as this is what he seems to do best.  D volunteered to take him out of the chapel into the foyer.  I thought this was a great idea.  I thought wrong.  With only 5 minutes left of the first meeting, I glanced out the back doors to see D frantically scurrying about with Fuss in his arms.  We made eye contact.  He looked angry. He showed me the empty sippy in his hand that no longer had a lid on it.  I immediately noticed the milk dripping from his hand and the cup.  He pointed to Fuss and mouthed something that I didn't understand, and frankly don't think I want to.  I quickly gathered the small picnic that Fuss had previously created on the bench.  Picked up the toy car, gathered our papers and scriptures, and as discretely as possible took my luggage out to the foyer to see the damage my son had created.  

Fuss had thrown the sippy and again the lid popped off.  Since I had wisely refilled it, approximately 12 ounces of milk flooded a spot on the floor.  There were 4 people on hands and knees with paper towels mopping up what my son had done.  D handed off Fuss to me so that he could  help with the mopping process.  As D ran off for more paper towels from the bathroom, I struggled to balance the load of bags on one arm with the load of my child in the other.  I was frazzled at this point, and contemplating why I let my easily stressed out husband be the one to take our overly tired child out of the meeting.  Fuss was trying to crawl up my body by walking up my side. As his feet pushed against the fabric of my clothing, I thought to myself, "I better just sit down with him."  It was then that I made eye contact again. This time it was with a woman sitting across the foyer.  She mouthed the words "Your SKIRT!" to me.  I looked down to see my skirt, the one that had just moments ago covered my legs, lying in a pile on the floor around my ankles.  The entire skirt did not just slip from my waist a little, but fell entirely to the floor.  Luckily, I was wearing a slip for a change.  Unluckily, when your skirt is around your ankles, you can't really run away.  How do you escape that moment?  Do you pick up the skirt and run down the hall to the bathroom while half naked?  With all my items still in arms, I quickly moved Fuss to the baggage arm and crouched as low as I could and pulled up my skirt with one hand.  I just have to say that this is not the best method for correcting a moment like this.  When pulling a skirt up with one hand it can cause the slip underneath to be pulled and bunched around the waist line.  Not to mention that it wasn't even on remotely straight, but I couldn't leave my 1 year old and my bags alone, nor could I carry them all and hold my skirt up on the trek to the bathroom.  So, I did what I had previously thought was a good idea, I sat down on the couch that was near me.  The men that had been helping mop up milk were polite and tried to look away, but let's face it...inside they were laughing as hard as I was bawling (inside...outwardly I maintained as much composure as I could).  Oh, how unprepared I was for that moment.  I didn't even feel my skirt falling.  When D returned and I explained the moment I had just been through, I also included that it was entirely his fault.  Had he not been frantically trying to get my attention and been flustered in explaining the situation to me, I would not have been flustered and may have tried to get things better situated before taking Fuss from him.  Maybe not, but I still like to think that the moment could have been prevented by something that D did.  After I had suffered the complete humiliation, I opt to forgo the responsibility.