ANYWAY, I won't bore you with all the details of the rest of this crazy day....I'm sure it's easy to imagine - backseat bottle-feeding, drive-thrus, traffic jams, crying, crying while in traffic jams (those are fun) and NOWHERE TO GO.
But I have to highlight one final event. I had an appointment at a bank on Granville Street at 3 pm. And yes, maybe it's not so smart to make an appointment at a bank while caring for a baby and a dog, but you see, I had no other choice. We were only in Vancouver for one day and the banking business I had to do needed to be done that week at that particular branch. So. I left the dog in the car, windows cracked, and took a very tired (and WET) Sadie into the bank. I found the office of the woman I was meeting with and sat down a little out of breathe.
"Do you have a bathroom I could quickly change my daughter in?"
"Uhhh....no...um, not really....we don't really have a.....a thing....."
"Okay," I said, and scanned the room. "Well then do you mind if I quickly change her in the corner on the floor here?"
Some of you may think this is an inappropriate request to make of a professional at a financial institution. And you may be right. But is it any less appropriate than conducting a meeting with a screaming baby wearing a full diaper? Not to mention, she wasn't much of a professional. And clearly did NOT have children herself and my guess is that she had never even been around children before or even people who have children. She made me feel like a total sideshow and even said at one point "this is your first baby" in a tone that was more statement than question.
She agreed to the impromptu diaper change (or at least, she didn't disagree), but I think she was shocked and disgusted that there might be some "uncontained" baby poo within a five foot radius of her desk. The rest of the meeting was a flurry of signing documents while trying to prevent the entire contents of the diaper bag from being emptied onto the floor, item by item.
I left the bank feeling like a total failure. A failure as mother for letting my daughter go so long with a wet diaper and putting her through this day altogether, and a failure as a self-respecting adult for losing any grip I had on "put-togetherness." The jig is up.
So I did what any person would do with her last shred of sanity. I be-lined for Stanley Park. We needed some shade, we needed some playtime, we needed some SPACE. I parked the car, freed Sadie from the prison of her 5-point harness, leashed the dog, and then, for a few teetering minutes on the Precipice of Composure, I lost the car keys. There was a lot of nostril exhaling going on and some salty burning under my eyes. Fine. FINE. I will just call Scott and tell him I can't pick him up from work. He will have to taxi to the park and find his stranded family. Then a tourist approached us and asked me whether or not I feed my dog, why is she so skinny? SERENITY NOW!!!!!
Car keys were then found in a most peculiar spot - behind the headrest of the backseat, how they got there I have no memory of. And all was well. I picked up Scott and we sailed back to the island, where things are peaceful and calm. I nearly cracked this day, but as they say in the circus, the show must go on. And I've got the cutest little dancing bear cub there is.
For reasons unrelated to the aforementioned circus acts, I've decided that when we have another baby I want to design him or her a carnival-themed nursery with lots of grays and yellows. Since I don't have any relevant images for the story in this post, I've included some images that I'll use for inspiration when the nesting instinct kicks in again....