So…

We take a last minute flight to Florida to see Hot Nerd’s very ill grandmother. We rush to board the doggies, pack ourselves up haphazardly, wake up at 3am, apologize to the sleepy toddler as we shove milk into his hands and hightail it to LAX.

We are late. We almost miss our flight. We are too late to check in. We have to find a “red coat”. We have to beg and plead. We have to run. We run alot. We run,run,run.

Thank goodness we make it, because then we have a chance to almost miss our connecting flight.

After five hours on a plane with a very active, and very cranky, teething toddler- we decide to get some food (quickly) before our connecting flight. We are sleepy. We are slow. We eat slow. We argue about how slow we are being, and how to best be not-so-slow.

Hot Nerd and I split up to save time and decide to meet at the gate in a few minutes. My phone has died, and I don’t know what time it is.

I take Bam Bam to the restroom to change his diaper. It takes insanely longer than I ever thought possible. His pants get stuck on his shoes. He doesn’t want to lay down. He steps into the trash can- yup, steps off the changing table and right into the trash can, and I have to fish him out. We get changed, and somehow while holding him on my hip to wash my hands, his diaper moves to the side, and he pees all over himself and me. It doesn’t help that I plied him with water/apple juice during take off and landing to help the pressure in his ears. He let loose a monster pee. MONSTER.

Bam Bam’s left pant leg is entirely soaked in pee. My T shirt, and the tops of my jeans are also soaked. The monster pee has also found its way to the tops of my fuzzy boots. At the very instant that the warmth of urine stops spreading across my midsection, I hear a bellowing, male voice shout my first and last name from the ladies room entrance. I scream in reply, “What?”

About twenty women turn and stare at me.

“Get out here right now!  They are closing the doors!”

I look at my diaper bag and think of Bam Bam’s change of clothes inside…

“NOW!”

I screw the change of clothes and scurry out. On my way, a woman asks “Is that your dad?” I reply as I run out, “Nope… that’s my husband.”

He begins running, and I run right behind, angrily informing him about his son’s urine, and occasionally glancing down to see some of it still drip off the bottom of my shirt.

Apparently Hot Nerd had been begging airline personnel to hold the doors open for just a minute, as I was sure to return from the bathroom soon. They were not cooperative and gave him 90 seconds to find me, or get on the plane without me.

We run in at the last second, and they pretty much close it on our asses as we swoop through. We settle into our seats as quickly as possible and everyone is staring at us. Bam Bam gets his seat a little damp, but I change him right away before we take off.

As the plane starts accelerating, I begin to realize how absolutely gross I feel. My shirt is sticking to me in a very disgusting, wet T-shirt contest kind of way. I am sweating bullets from running at full speed with a 10 lb diaper bag slung over my shoulder, and a 35 lb toddler on my hip. It is at this hot and sticky moment that I begin to smell myself. I do not smell good. I can’t even remember if I put on deodorant (at 3 am, it’s likely I forgot). But that really doesn’t matter because the smell of  pee is starting to waft to my nose. I have no change of clothes, and simply fan myself, in an effort to cool off, and dry my shirt. It takes almost the full hour and a half flight to feel only slightly damp.

Note:  The only smell worse than fresh urine, is perhaps the smell of old, dry urine. Completely different smell, but not in a better way.

After we land, we go straight to the hospital because his grandmother is not doing too well, we don’t know how long she will last, and we’re certain our little boy will make her smile. An hour or two later, I’m only slightly annoyed at the faint smell of dry pee that I catch a whiff of  every ten minutes or so.

Presently, I sit here at Hot Nerd’s parent’s house- a day, a shower, and one laundry load later. We went to visit his grandmother again today. She is hanging in there, and no one is sure what will happen. We are happy we made this last minute decision to see her, and Hot Nerd-In Laws have always been super welcoming to me. I am positive that our visit is bringing the family some joy in this difficult and uncertain time.

I have however, since been peed on again- twice. We have never had a peeing issue before, so to have it happen three times in two days is weird. And I smell it everywhere. Every hour or so I get a whiff of some phantom, dried up urine smell. I smelled it at the park today and spent twenty minutes sniffing my child’s crotch, his shoes, his stroller, my shirt, the car seat, and my own clothes. I smelled it again while picking up dinner. I didn’t have my son with me at the time, so I am now convinced that it has either soaked into my pores somehow, or I somehow got some pee splashed up into my nose, and now I can’t get rid of it.

It hasn’t left me since we arrived in Florida.

“What IS that scent you’re wearing?”

I call it Little Boy Pee… and I wear it often.