Who's hungry?

So, the night before New Year's Eve, Mike and I dropped 3 of the kids off with my mom (AGAIN...I know...) and took a little trip to Nebraska Furniture Mart.  Our tv stand has been wobbling for about, oh, 2 years or so, and that, coupled with the fact that our Mike's new tv comes tomorrow (one that wouldn't fit into our old tv stand), got us thinking that we should probably find a new one.  Was that like the longest run-on sentence you've ever seen, or what?  sheesh.  So anyway, we were out shopping and started getting hungry.  It happens.  We spotted a Lone Star right down the street and saw their 2 for $20 deal, so we headed in.  We were happy to only have 2 kids with us (Isaac and Jett).  It gets a little crazy when we try to wrangle all 5 in a restaurant. 
We got seated about 15 minutes after arriving, and ordered our drinks and appetizers.  I looked over at Jett, who was just hangin' out in the highchair, eating the heck out of some fruit puffs.  Isaac was happily coloring on his menu, after having just informed me that he wanted a cheeseburger with no cheese for dinner.  Mike and I were relaxed and everything was right with the world. 

Then.

THEN.

I noticed Jett's face getting a little red, and slowly, his facial expression started to change into that one face mother's don't like to see.  especially out in public.  especially at a restaurant.  He was making me a little present in his diaper, right there in front of everyone.  I informed Mike of what his kid was up to, and told him I would wait to change him till he was done.  Well.  About 2 minutes after that, I started smelling the stench.  You know the one. 
So I got out of my seat, and grabbed my sweet, little, innocent, precious son.  I lifted the precious angel up, and smelled him, you know, just to make sure.  Like I had any doubts.  
What followed will be forever sketched into my memory.  Right about the time his lower back got close to my face, it registered in my mind that my hands were covered in a liquidy, stinky, mess.  That's right.  His poop made it's way out of his jeans, up his entire back, and all over the front of my sweater.  All.over.  Thankfully, my nose didn't touch his back side, or we would've had a poopy mess and a throw-upy mess to deal with. 
I couldn't believe I was standing there, holding this poop-covered child, trying to hide the poopy mess that was me, as well.  I quickly made my way to the restroom, after finally convincing myself that I wasn't, in fact, in some horrible dream.  Mike told the server to box up our meals (he had just sat down the appetizer), and I cleaned up myself and Jett the best I could with baby wipes.  You know, I've heard people joke about bringing a change of clothes in the diaper bag for yourself, but it had never dawned on me until just then that I should have actually taken that advice.  Luckily, I was wearing a shirt under my sweater, so I was able to not ride home in a poop covered garment.  The only change of clothes I had for Jett was a one piece summer outfit that was 2 sizes too small.  But he was gonna have to deal with it.  This was his fault, after all.  j/k :)

After I had taken approximately 20 minutes cleaning us both up, I headed back to the table.  Our food was sitting on the table in styrofoam boxes, which was fine by me...for some reason, I had completely lost my appetite.   We paid the check and made our way out of there as fast as we could. 

The end.

p.s. Steak from a styrofoam box just isn't the same.  Just to let you know.