Mother's Day and a Reminder to Stock Diaper Bag

Just as we did last year, Rob and Zoe and I spent Mother's Day in St. Andrews, New Brunswick, for the PBSO's (Passamaquoddy Bay Symphony Orchestra) final concert of the season - and Rob's last ever, presumably. His mom and younger sister, Jana, were in town visiting from Alaska, but Jana stayed on this side of the border since she was without passport. So the five of us hopped across the border (leally, mind you), getting there with enough time to drop off Rob and go and get ourselves a bite to eat before the concert began. During my pot of green tea, Olive was in need of a change, so we ran out to the car to take care of. I opened the diaper bag, which was always seemingly bursting forth with Huggies, and saw a lone diaper staring back up at me. Uh oh. I bit my lip trying to figure out how we were going to make it through the rest of brunch, the 1 1/2 hour-long concert, and the trip back home on that very same diaper*. We headed back to the Fairmont Algonquin, the Tudor-stye castle of a hotel whose ballroom/poolhouse serves as the setting for the PBSO concerts. We took our seats among the 75 or so other audience members - mostly women or sectogenarian couples seeking a little Beethoven for their Mother's Days. Olive, as usual, impressed those around us with her sweetness and superb behavior, gazing around wide-eyed and smiling at the strangers. Her fresh diaper, though, was not pulling through for me as I'd hoped. We soon had to slink away to the downstairs bathroom to remedy the situation. Occasionally, my nose will decieve me, and the suspect diaper will, in fact, be spotless, or nearly so. Not the case. Being that she'd successfully soiled her only diaper, I had to make due with the supplies I had: the Martex washcloth I'd been usng to dap the spit-up curds from the corners of her mouth, and the ladies' room's paper towels and facial tissue. I felt like a destitue mother, fashioning a makeshift diaper out of those things and trying in vain to center the contents into her little bloomers. This would not do, but would hopefully get us to the nearest grocery store without incident. I excused us from the concert just as it was breaking for intermission, and we hurried to the market. The baby aisle was ill-stocked that day, carrying diapers only as small as a size 3, but I snagged them.
We got back just in time to catch most of the latter half of the concert - a song composed by the conductor's grandfather, Harold Seaverud, the second most famous composer in Norway. Pretty cool. We headed straight home afterwards, where Jana was preparing us tacos for dinner.

Karen and Jana left this morning to go back to Alaska. Their trip was short but full, with lots laughs, sea glass collected, trips to Canada, food consumed and games played by all of us. I'm just sorry I won't be going to Alaska next month with Rob and Zoe to see them again. Soon, though, I hope!