a tribute to the border grill

no tale of babysparewear could ever be complete without details of...the incident. my first child was about eight months old at the time and i was already feeling like a veteran parent. zianna was an easy-going baby. i felt like i knew this tiny human inside and out. i understood what she needed before she needed it and could anticipate her moods. i had the whole mom thing wired...or so i thought. one fated weekend, grandma and grandpa asked if we wanted to have dinner with them at the border grill in santa monica. outings were no longer a big deal for me and my husband, so we accepted confidently. zianna had napped sufficiently that day. she was happy, healthy and cheerful. we timed her solid food feeding so that she would be fine at the restaurant. i grabbed a bottle, a diaper, wipes, and a light sweater (it gets chilly in santa monica) and headed out with the family. we arrived at the restaurant and had to wait a bit for a table. we sat the baby in her stroller and handed her a bottle. we noticed she was drinking it rather quickly, but thought nothing more of it. we were seated at a table and the staff was kind enough to suggest that there would be plenty of room in the restaurant for her to remain in her stroller while we dined. we sat and chatted in the busy restaurant for a few moments, glancing down occasionally at our perfect first child sitting quietly in her peg perego...and that is when it happened. i was startled by the sight of my sweet little baby's mouth projecting a stream of liquid better suited for a firetruck hose. my disbelief could form only one thought: could this torrential, white downpour be the result of a mere eight ounces? my husband quickly mopped up the baby, stroller and restaurant surroundings with all dinner napkins in close proximity and i rushed to the bathroom with my sopping wet baby. i was mortified..not only at the thought of having imposed my daughter's bodily functions upon a room full of diners, but at my failure as a mother for not anticipating such an event. i had not packed a spare outfit. i wiped my daughter clean, dressed her in her cardigan (i was prepared for a chilly evening...), wrapped my sweater around her bare legs and swore i would never again leave the house unprepared. little did we know that the mother of all messes would one day be credited as the mother of invention. (thanks so much to the border grill staff and their speedy recovery of the situation. and thank you, zianna. to this day, you always give it your all...)