And she's off... Or maybe not so much.

And she’s off! Or maybe not so much.
This past weekend was the local radio stations “Diaper Derby” at the mall. So basically, any insane parent who thinks their kid is the fastest crawler registers them to be in the race. The prize: $1000 college savings bond. I was lured by the fact that “all participants receive fabulous prizes”.
I would like to put a disclaimer here: I am fully aware that my daughter listens to no one. She only crawls quickly when there is something that she wants, but knows that she cannot have. I never had any visions of a victory for her. I opted to enter her just to join the league of wacko parents who wish to humiliate their children publicly as often as possible.
I didn’t realize how nervous I would become for this ridiculous race. My parents took it very seriously and spent two weeks training her. She was doing mini sprints through their living room in preparation. I found myself purposely walking across the room and dropping a roll of toilet paper so she would scurry as fast as she could to get it before I noticed. (Insert reminder here: Hayden is obsessed with paper. She wants to eat it constantly and has a special fondness for the soft stuff.)
That morning was nerve racking. Hayden had no idea what was going on and woke up in a strangely good mood. My husband and I were extra silly to keep her in that good mood. We even performed the Macarena to keep her smiling and clapping. I gave her extra blueberries and oatmeal for breakfast while I ate a healthy balance of Cocoa Puffs and a gallon of coffee. She took an extra long nap and we were ready to go!
We signed in and she was given her racing number. She was racer number one. I figured it must be a sign. Most babies had a cheering section of three or four people. Hayden had my friends, parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Hayden is well on her way to knowing what it’s like to come from a huge Italian family.
She was in a great mood. She was dancing along to “Magic Carpet Ride” and cracking huge smiles. It didn’t dawn on her for a single minute why we were sitting in the center of the mall having a dance party. Like any other good mother, I waited until 10 minutes before the race began and gave her an extra sugary yogurt. I figured giving her a little of the white stuff might give her that little edge.
The plan was that I would sit with her behind the start line and my mother would stand at the finish line holding up a necklace that I won’t let her play with and a red ribbon that she tries to eat regularly. I spent a lot of time contemplating whether I should bring a cable cord and a roll of paper towels. Finally, I decided that I should pretend to be somewhat normal and not bring those things. Necklace and ribbon it would be. I immediately regretted this decision as I watched the other parents’ line up with their “tools”. One woman had a remote control. A dad waved around all sorts of Gerber treats. Another dad had a baseball bat (not sure about what that was insinuating). I began to doubt my “tools” and wondered if I had time to run to the bathroom to get a roll of the good stuff.
I checked out the competition. It was pretty serious. One girl had on just a onesie and knee pads. There were a set of twin boys who seemed really confused. There was an adorable little girl who I quickly dismissed as competition until I caught her giving Hayden the evil stank eye. The boy next to me looked really hungry and I began to wonder if that was the parents plan- to not feed him then wave the Gerber treats. Why didn’t Paul and I think of that?! I began to scold myself for not thinking this through enough. I mean, really, there was a $1000 scholarship prize at stake here.
Hayden began rocking on her hands and knees and I held her in place. All of a sudden calm came over me. I had faith in my baby. I just knew she could take these other chumps.
3…2…1… and they’re off! Or not so much. All the babies stayed in place while the parents began to scream. My entire cheering section was on their feet and I began to push her little tush to get her going. I looked at her face and knew we were in trouble. She had no idea what was going on and why everyone was suddenly screaming like mad. So she sat up and began to clap her hands. While she clapped, the little girl in the knee pads took off. She scurried down the course with such quickness. She came within 7 inches of the finish line and just sat… and sat…and sat… nothing her mom could do would get her to cross that line. This was Hayden’s chance! She finally saw my Mom in the distance holding up that ribbon and necklace and took off… for about four feet. Then she stopped and burst into tears. Then there was the little girl who was giving Hayden the stank eye before the race began. She had crossed the racing lanes and was headed right for Hayden. Hayden stopped crying and stared at her as to ask “where the heck are you going?”. At this time, the poor little boy who looked as though he was starving simply laid down in the middle of the course. He looked defeated. The twins hung out with each other at the start line daring not to make a move despite their mothers plea’s. Knee Pad girl stayed seven inches from the line and stared at her mother in confusion. I needed a better plan. So I jumped up to run around the racing court to the finish line thinking that if she saw me there she would come. What I didn’t anticipate is that she would also go off the course and try to follow me. I ran back to get her back on track. All of a sudden Stank Eye sees her father and she diaper derby crawls to him and crosses the finish line (crawling over Knee Pad girl) and wins the race. I scooped up Hayden to put her out of her misery.
So, Hayden lost. The whole thing was hysterical though and I’m glad I put her through it. The best part of the day was realizing that my Angry Little Diva, no matter how fresh she can be, will always have a ton of people in her corner. Win or lose. And I’m forever thankful for that.
As we got in the car I couldn’t wait to see what her “fabulous prize” was. I quickly opened up the bag expecting to find gift certificates to Carters or Toys ‘R Us or something. Nope. There I found radio station propaganda. A tube of chap stick, a sticker and a deck of “fortune telling” cards for children. Very age appropriate for my ten month old, I thought.