Dear little old lady,

Dear little old lady,

I really am sorry my hot, young husband startled you. I know he wasn't really supposed to be in the ladies room.

But, if you had stopped yelling for a moment you might have noticed he did in fact have a female chaperone. Yes, the little blob wailing in his bjorn and dripping a suspicious brown substance happens to be female (Yes, dripping. I do not heart disposables).

And yes, I have been known to change a diaper or two on occasion, but on this particular occasion I had spent the first half of my lunch feeding this particular fusspot (see post below, baby is sick and hence still in IRHABIMM mode). And when you're out with a large extended family you really need to eat when others are eating or risk missing out entirely.

I'm all for the quick change under the table when necessary, but this particular mess seemed better fitted for a designated changing table (and I'm sure if you'd been sitting next to us at the restaurant you would have agreed). I might have considered sending him outside to change her except we're in L.A. in May and it's a bit hot out there. No, I do not allow him to change her on the men's room floor (having almost died of a pa.ra.site inf.ect.ion many years ago I am a little wary of placing my baby on a restroom floor. Just my own paranoia, you see). So until restaurants start splurging on a changing table in the men's room (and really, what are we talking about here? $100?) I will continue to direct him into the ladies room.

And hence, I do in fact take full responsibility for sending my husband into the ladies room. And for the record I would not feel the need to step in an defend him if he had not looked so utterly puzzled about what you were yelling at him about.

Sincerely,
"Rachel"