A Tale of Pee: No. I Have A Change of Clothes

My youngest is 5.

She is my third.

So. Pretty much. With her being my third and being 5 and all, we are all done with “accidents”.

Right?

*insert look of exasperation here*

SO. Yesterday. We were at the park — ALL DAY. For this:

Yeah. I sang too. But more on THAT epic tale of Oreos and microphones later…

So. At the park. The whole family. From 10 a.m. to 7 p.m. I brought Lucy a change of clothes because I know how things go.

Now, Mama was busy makin’ the rounds at Poulsbopalooza. Chattin’ and whathaveyou. Mama has some great friends who went to Poulsbopalooza who pulled out slivers, offered food and made sure they also knew none of my kids were wearing their shoes.

It takes a village.

And also, I give. Why do I even buy shoes?

One of those great friends, Sara *waves to Sara*, who… out of the sweetness of her heart… knowing my struggle with my little one… offered to my Lucy (while I was busy not being a good mom, but a good networker & decent tambourine shaker…) “Hey Lucy! I’m going to the bathroom… do you want to come with me?”

And here is where the clouds parted and revelations were revealed. Revelations revealing revelations… Lucy shrugged her shoulders and said,

No. I have a change of clothes.

Eff.

Hope of all hope… I  have never had a chance.

On all the earth. Ever.

My precious Sara (mother, friend, all-around woman of awesome) felt my potential pain, had mercy on me and encouraged Lucy to head over to the potty with her ANYWAY.

And in the end, we made it all day without an “accident”. No doubt all due to my village. A load of thanks to Sara, Lisa, the older daughters and sons of friends, my own son and daughter…

Because I know at one point I took Lucy 3 times in less than 30 minutes.

At least she I know she was hydrated. And she probably walked 30 miles. But not one of them was to change her clothes.