Back before Mayo we went to see a pediatric hematologist. I hadn’t ever been to that clinic before, so I made sure we got there early. Cee and I wandered around a little, found where we were supposed to be, and then went to the bathroom. Poor Cee! She was sitting on the potty, but somehow her pants ended up wet. Super wet.
I tried to think fast. I didn’t have a spare set of clothing for Cee. There was no way I could bring her to her appointment with wet pants. Where was the nearest Target? We didn’t have enough time. Aha! Outside the bathrooms I remembered seeing a gift shop. They probably had some sweat pants or something in there that would work. With strict instructions not to touch or lean up against anything, Cee and I made our way to the gift shop. Cee was already uncomfortable walking, so the wet pants didn’t help things.
Hoping no one noticed the smell or the wet spot, we walked through the store. Nothing. We made another loop, in case there was something I missed. Hanging on the wall were some princess dresses. “Okay, okay,” I thought to myself. “We can work with that.” Cee was happy to take a closer look. $50 apiece. And the dresses weren’t that great. Hmmm. I guess pee-pants wouldn’t be so bad after all. Besides, I realized that if I showed up to a doctor appointment with Cee in a princess dress and no underwear, they’d probably lock me up.
We left the gift shop, both dejected. Me because they didn’t have any pants, Cee because she saw all this cool stuff she wasn’t allowed to take home.
I didn’t want to sit on any chairs given our circumstances, so we went back to the bathroom so I could think. I had to be missing something.
I walked right by our solution. The hand dryer! More experienced moms probably would have figured that out from the beginning. Actually, more experienced moms probably wouldn’t have ended up in this situation in the first place. I brought Cee to a stall and took her bottoms. I proceeded to stand with her pants under the hand dryer for 10 minutes. I was a little afraid it would overheat and explode, so I made sure to alternate between two hand dryers.
I tried to think of what I would say if someone walked in. I knew that I’d feel the need to explain the reason I was frantically rubbing little girl jeans in the clinic bathroom. “Accidents happen.” or “What do you know, the dryer broke at home. It’s going to take forever to get through the rest of the load.” or “After this I’m never going to fit into these jeans!” Fortunately no one came in.
Eventually I ran out of time, but they were definitely drier than before. The smell was there, though. Shoot. I should have rinsed them first. I contemplated rinsing them anyway, but that would undo all my meticulous drying. Even with the alternating, I wasn’t convinced that the dryers could handle another round.
I looked through my purse, hoping to find something, anything that could help. Hand sanitizer! I generously rubbed Cee’s pants with hand sanitizer. After a quick sniff I could only smell the pee a little, and they were only a little damp. She did smell a lot like hand sanitizer, though. Whatever. At least it wasn’t the princess dress with no underwear.
The hematologist never mentioned anything, so I’d consider that a successful save. Thanks, hand dryer, for solving my mom problems.