Another Baby Gadget Idea

How long can you drive in a car with a screaming baby? Ten minutes? Twenty?

Try 45.

I realize that this probably isn't a record or anything, but T Junior was screaming himself hoarse yesterday during the longest car ride of my life. The thing is, he doesn't normally cry a lot. He only cries if there is something wrong...or if we're in the car, which I guess, to him, is something wrong.

I tried everything I could think of to soothe him:

-I stayed calm. I tried hard to keep myself from getting worked up and emotional, but I have to admit after 40 minutes, I was close to tears. I called Mr. T just so he could witness my torture (something I SWORE I would never, ever do -- ugh).

-I tried shushing. The thing is, you have to shush louder than the baby can cry and that's really hard when you are in the front seat facing forward and the kid is in a carseat facing backward. I was out of breath after three shushes.

-I tried singing. I sang "You Are My Sunshine," substituting his name where "Sunshine" goes. But, let's face it, I have a TERRIBLE singing voice. I didn't have much confidence that would work and it didn't.

-I tried singing along with a professional musician, a la the radio. He screamed louder.

-I turned on the classical music station because that's worked in the past a couple of times. Not this time.

-I tried jiggling his seat with one hand and driving with the other. That didn't even make a dent in the crying, plus it's just not very safe.

-I even threw the car in park at a stoplight, took off my seatbelt, and turned backward in my seat to reach the pacifier. I popped it in his mouth. Ahhhhhh! This worked...until the light turned green and he spit it out. Resume insane screaming.

This is when I called Mr. T. I had to yell in order for him to hear me. On his end, he was thinking: "What does she want me to do?" (Later when he told me that, I said: "Nothing, dummy. I just wanted you to hear what I was going through." Why do men always think they have to solve everything?)

During the trip, I kept running through things that could be wrong with him. Hungry? No, he ate not that long ago and it didn't sound like his "hungry cry," which is more like a whimper not a scream. Tired? Yes, but why then didn't he just fall asleep after a few minutes of crying, which is normally what happens. Maybe he pooped, but I would've heard that. What could it be?

After pulling into the driveway, I walked over to his door and I smelled it. Poop. That whole time he was trying to tell me: "I've got POOP in my pants! YUCKY! YUCKY! I HATE poop!"

Yes, my kid really dislikes sitting in poop, so much so that he will scream at the top of his tiny little lungs for FORTY-FIVE MINUTES.

You know what I wish? I wish there was a poop-o-meter on my car. Then, I could check my speed, the gas gauge and whether or not I need to pull over to change my son's pants.