Yesterday, we attended the funeral for Mrs. Valente. She was my brother's Godmother, and my God-grandmother - her daughter, my Mom's best friend in high school, is my Godmother. She was a lovely woman, very funny, and made the best food. She always had food to feed us when we came over. I remember going over there as a kid (about 12 or so) and sharing wine with her and her husband and their family. I'm pretty sure the first time I got drunk was at their place. :) She lived a very full life and was surrounded by friends and family always. I will miss her dearly.
Owen was very good during the funeral mass - a full Catholic mass with 3 priests - he slept right through it. I heard afterwards that's called a 'High Mass'. There was lots of cooing and smiling at Owen from all the Italian Nona's at the reception, where he was more alert. Of course, I delighted in telling them how good he was and how he never cried. (There's some foreshaddowing in that last sentence). Maria, my Godmother, was happy to meet Owen, and also has a new grandson herself. Sarah, her second daughter, had a baby on August 16th! He is also very adorable.
By the time lunch was served, Owen was getting sleepy again, so I laid him in his carseat while we ate, during which time I heard him poop. Before we left I wanted to change his diaper,since we were heading to Costco before going back home. The facilities were sorrily lacking - no change table in either washroom. I did happen to find a small table behind a curtain in the hall, next to a stage. Nothing fancy, but it would do for the purpose at hand. Well, let's just say that Owen wasn't thrilled to have been woken up. He cried pretty hard from the moment that the diaper came off, which is when I realized that he'd had a poop explosion! So in addition to the diaper, off came all his clothes. For those of you who don't already know, Owen doesn't really care for (hates, really) being naked, so the crying got worse and louder. Then, just as I had finished cleaning up the poop, which had made it's way all up his back, he peed. All over Grandma (my mom), who was holding his upper half so he wouldn't squirm his way off the table. So, newly wet, and round 2 of wiping just beginning, he cried more and harder... then he peed again! Round three of wiping... I now have almost no wipes in the diaper bag... he was so upset that all I could do was pick him up and hold him to calm him down. It was very traumatic for all of us - Owen, me, and Grandma.
I've heard that babies love to prove their parents wrong. I guess I've learned my lesson. :)
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