Just Call Me MacGyver

Yesterday I broke one of the cardinal rules of parenting. Yes, friends, I left the house without checking the contents of the diaper bag.

To make a long story short, on Saturday night Hannah had her first bed-wetting accident, and it occurred shortly after she ripped the plastic cover off of her mattress. I don’t know if you’ve ever interacted with a sopping wet mattress, but let’s just say it needed to get out of our house pronto.

Thus after church we needed to procure a new twin bed mattress. A friend sent me a coupon for a friends and family discount at JC Penney, so I called JC Penney and they said the store on the southside of town carried mattresses and would have them in stock.

We drove 45 minutes to that JC Penney, lugged the children into the mall through the pouring rain, and found out that they actually had the mattresses and furniture in another space separate from the main JC Penney. And the other space was on the OTHER SIDE of the mall. After lugging the kids across the mall, we found out that they did NOT have mattresses in stock, just floor models, and you had to pay an additional $60 to have the mattress delivered, and for good measure they wouldn’t be able to deliver one to us for THREE WEEKS! Clearly that was not going to work. We did use the coupon to get a stellar deal on a waterproof cover for a twin mattress while we were there though, so it wasn’t a total loss.

At some point during our string of disappointments, we became aware that Jack had perpetrated a dirty diaper. The child is a veritable poop machine, so this turn of events did not surprise me. I took him to the bathroom, hoisted him to the changing table, and opened the diaper bag.

Now, my use of the term “diaper bag” might lead you to believe that there were actual diapers in the bag. Not so! There was not a single diaper to be found. Nary a one. All I had was one dried out baby wipe, a burp cloth and a plastic bag.

This, my friends, is where the MacGyver thing comes in to play. Leaving Jack in the aforementioned dirty diaper was not an option, and once he was cleaned up with a combo of the one dried up wipe and damp paper towels I swiftly laid him on the burp cloth and tied him up in the plastic bag. When I put his pants back on, Jack looked confused and concerned. He pointed to his pants and said, “No diapah!”

Racing against time, we fairly flew back across the mall (Cardio AND weight lifting! Who needs a gym membership?) ran through the rain to the van, and drove 45 minutes back home.

Although I wouldn’t recommend the burp cloth/plastic bag maneuver for everyday use, it does work in a pinch!

3 thoughts on “Just Call Me MacGyver

  1. With this post you play out every diaper nightmare I ever had back when my daughter was a baby!

    You are officially crowned MacGuyver…queen of making things work! =)

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