Yesterday when I called Jeanette to tell her about my day, she said “Wow, it’s like you stepped out your front door for the first time and all of the awkwardness in the universe just rained down on you.”
And that? Was the understatement of the year. Let me tell you about my day yesterday.
I’m allowed to take Scarlette out to a limited amount of places during the summer but since I’m still supposed to limit her exposure to people, we typically start our errands really early in the morning (like, as soon as the doors open and we’re the only people there early.) And because Jeff and I share a car, we don’t get out much. Yesterday I had three errands + a doctor’s appointment planned and that is the most I have ever done with Scarlette in a single day.
I first went to the store, whereupon I realized that the curse of womanhood had not only befallen me, it had done so while I was wearing white shorts. I know what you are thinking. You’re thinking to yourself “Self, why would someone as pale as Edward Cullen wear white shorts?” And the answer is: because I haven’t done any of my own laundry in nine months.
It was just like my 13th birthday, when I became a woman for the very first time while walking to the bus amidst the entire seventh grade class. I am not keen on reliving one of the most traumatic moments of junior high at twenty eight, y’all.
Also, the moral of this story is: it doesn’t matter how much your husband hates your denim jacket, always insist on keeping it on hand because you never know when you’ll need to tie something around your waist.
I had Scarlette in the stroller because her carseat/stroller combo closes up to further limit her exposure to people. Is it easy to shop like that? No. Is it easy to go to the restroom like that? NO. Also, it grosses me out to take her into public restrooms. I have public restroom phobia.
But I was lacking in options at that point and so I strolled to the back of the store and located the sign that said WOMENS. I glanced at the sign, then glanced through the open door at the man standing at the sink. He looked up at me and waved a can of caulk in greeting. “I’m almost done here, you can just wheel on into this one” he said, holding open the handicapped stall for me. I hesitated because, well, I’ve never had a guy hold open a bathroom stall door for me before. I thanked him as he stepped out and sighed in frustration that he hadn’t shut the main door behind him. Which apparently was because he was planning on coming back in. I know this because HE CAME BACK IN. He came back in and kept working on the sink while I was in the stall!
I KNOW. I froze because a) I’m a girl who values her privacy and b) nothing in life has ever taught me what to do when the maintenance man invades it in the women’s restroom.
I hastily made my way out of that establishment to the next, where I stopped in the Mother/Baby lounge to feed Scarlette and discovered that she not only had a major diaper blowout, but that I? I had no spare clothes for her. Because although I had packed her diaper bag the night before, in my sleep deprived state that morning I had stumbled into the den, removed the spare clothes from said diaper bag AND DRESSED HER IN THEM.
And also? When I picked up her up, I nestled her leaky diaper right against my hip. And upon pulling her away and noticing the blowout, I realized that it had indeed leaked out onto the very denim jacket that I was using to cover up my whole “white shorts” issue. Awesome.
I finally made it to the eye doctor, nekkid baby and equipment in tow, and settled in with a People Magazine that had Princess Kate on the cover. Finally, my day was looking up. That’s when an older gentleman settled in next to me and started making small talk about my baby. And by small talk, I mean he started off the conversation by saying “Wow, you look like a pack mule.” Awesome.
“How old are you? You look really young, too young to have a kid” he said.
I find that question annoying (especially when I am PMSing) and attempted to politely get out the words “twenty eight” while pointedly trying to read about life as a royal newlywed.
“I thought you were a teenage mom” he whispered.
I was refraining from rolling my eyes when he asked me how many kids I was planning on having. Because that’s appropriate conversation for complete strangers. And when I answered “None” he reached over, patted my hand and said “Don’t worry. She’ll grow on you eventually.”
!!!!!!!
We’re never leaving the house again.
(that is also the story of how I came home, went to bed and let Jeff take over. Giveaway winners are now posted below)
