March 31, 2010

Raising Arizona Style, Concluded...

*Author's Note: The following is the conclusion of a three part series. To gather the full context of the narrative, begin here

...In a situation like this, with diapers loading left and right, a normal father may be tempted to melt down. The sounds, the smells, the sheer insurmountable task ahead of you can be disorienting. You must recall however, that I am a Stay-at-Home Dad and as such my skill set is more akin to that of a ninja, than to that of a typical American father (case in point: I am currently typing this with one hand. The second is keeping the Moeb asleep). So, I took a quick self-inventory and finding that I still had all of my wits about me, my Stay-at-Home Brain developed a plan.

At this point no one was eating anymore. The novelty of being unbuckled, yet still in the car, had curbed my son's appetite. Five ounces of baby formula had had a similar effect on Moeb. Just a couple smelly children and I, staring at each other, daring one another to make the first move. I dropped the arm rest between the two car-seats, creating a kind of narrow channel into the back cargo area. In a wild stroke of luck it turned out the Bean had only tooted so I sent him through the great Mid-RAV4 Channel into the back and pushed the arm rest up again. Then I set to work climbing in and out of the car through every door and over every seat as I gathered diapers, wet-wipes, burp rags, a changing pad, blankets, and sent them all into the back. The Bean was having the greatest time of his life running from one side of the car to the other, sending all of the diaper changing supplies I had gathered back over the seat to me. And I was having the greatest time of his life trying to make any progress. Finally, I grabbed the Moeb, car-seat and all, and opened the rear hatch.

Now, you might assume that taking two kids out of the house to run errands would simply double the amount of work involved in accomplishing any given task. Actually, it's more like multiplication. The Bean was happily exploring the back area of the Car-seat Car, drifting from one side to the other and being surprised by some new discovery each time, like a goldfish. And his bouncing side to side added a thrilling challenge to keeping the Moeb on her changing pad. The car would pitch to the left just as I had both feet in the air, or roll to the right in the instant I was reaching for a wet-wipe. I imagined this must be what is was like for the Pirates trying to change diapers on the open sea.

Suddenly, I found myself running out of room to work and I slung the now-empty car-seat onto the roof, a la Raising Arizona. As I did so, I became keenly aware of what I must look like to passersby. Indeed, I happened to catch the interested glances from a handful of said passersby and I thought: Who in their right mind wouldn't drive by this vehicle and call the police immediately? I might. And yet I felt there was a finesse to my movements—a deftness of motion that emanated good will, and dispelled perceptions of maleficence. With a shrug only shruggable by a Stay-at-Home Dad in a serious groove I pinned my delighted toddler to the floor of the car and changed his diaper too.

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