I think I won the White Trash Momathon today--and I was'nt even trying. I took the bus to the South Side today, boy in tow, to get a very much needed haircut. I had arranged to meet my friend, Kirsten, who graciously offered to watch Donovan for me while Marla hacked away and the underbrush of my head. I met Kirsten in Starbucks and, from there, we went to Burger King. In my defense (I being the one who suggested it) we were both so hungry and it was so hot that thinking straight was definately not a possibility. From there, I went to my appointment and Kirsten took Donovan to look at pigeons. We met after at Tuscany and, after that, I went to catch the bus.
A brief explanation: the only route that connects Polish Hill to South Side is the 54C. I love me some 54C, but there are two 54Cs: the one that goes to my house and the one that doesnt. And the one that doesnt came while I was waiting for the one that does. Twice. And on Saturday, that means 3 hours worth of waiting. By the time the second incorrect bus came by, my extremely patient baby was getting ready to blow. I said The Hell With It and went to the 4th food joint of the day: Qdoba. Let the record show that this Qdoba does not have a changing table in the ladies room. I was forced to change my son's poopy diaper on one of the picnic tables outside, after which I came in, washed my hands, and made him a bottle of Enfamil in the bathroom. And then I got a chicken mango salad, called my husband and told him to pick us up there when he was done with work 45 minutes later.
In writing this all out, I think I'm going to lose the White Trash Momathon on the technicality that I did not feed my 5 month old son any french fries at Burger King. Damn!