What?
Oh yeah, I guess this is my first time back to the blogosphere in almost two years so I should probably explain myself or something. So here goes...
I had another kid.
Ok? We all set?
But seriously, I have exited the pregnancy/childbirth/postpartum/how-do-I-raise-two-kids phase and now, as you'd expect, I have my act completely together.
I am a model mom. In every way.
Until things happen like what happened in Wal-Mart a couple of weeks ago.
Yes, Wal-Mart.
Now, we aren't huge Wal-Mart fans, but every now and again we find our path takes us through those infamous blue doors. Maybe it's simply the closest store and we're in a hurry ... maybe we need something that we can't find anywhere else...
Whatever the reason, when Greg pulls up to the door so I can run inside (it's always only for "a couple of things") he unfailingly reminds me to hold onto my soul, lest it should be sucked out.
On one such recent occasion, I asked if he and the girls would come in with me.
"Greg, if we go in together we can divide and conquer. It takes me forever when I need things on opposite sides of this store."
"I don't know..."
"We'll hurry!" I promised.
He dropped me and the girls off, since the day was cold and blustery, and parked the car.
This was the last stop on our grocery shopping trip and Darby and Gwen were both loudly whining from their double stroller.
Gwen, our one year old in the front seat, was especially grumpy as I yanked off her huge pink coat and urged her to "shush." I could already sense us morphing inevitably into "people of Wal-Mart," something that every Wal-Mart shopper slowly transforms into as soon as he or she walks inside.
Greg found us and I urged him to take the stroller and get some darn hemp seeds while I grabbed the diapers and a couple of other things.
A few minutes later I had found the diapers but lost my family. My cell phone in the stroller, I was forced to hurry around the aisles, arms full and a huge pack of diapers falling everywhere, yelling people's names in an annoyed voice, and thus completing the transformation.
Finally, I spotted them at the far end of the grocery section. Greg was standing next to the stroller, holding Gwen, looking frantic, and motioning to me. As I started toward him, he yelled out.
"What?" I called.
"Gwen fell out!" he yelled again.
"What?!!"
"You didn't buckle her in and she slid out!!!"
At that point people started looking over. Gwen seemed fine, and I was genuinely afraid one of those overly concerned bystander people I'm always reading about was going to call children's services.
I ran over with my finger on my lips and probably a demonic look on my face, telling him to "shhhhhhh!"
"You can't just yell that across a store! Oh my gosh! What do you mean she fell out? What happened?" I demanded.
"YOU didn't buckle her back in after you took off her coat. I was pushing them around when I heard a little grunting sound and she was on the floor."
"Oh my gosh; is she ok?" I asked, looking at my clearly intact baby.
"Yes, yes, she slid out really slow and landed on her legs."
"I can't believe it," I gasped. "I've never ever done that before! I was just in such a hurry and we were in Wal-Mart and ... Wal-Mart! This kind of thing only happens here," I announced, picturing my baby lying on the actual floor of Wal-Mart just a few minutes ago.
"No," Greg said, "Your child falls out of the stroller when you are running around in a hurry and forget to buckle her."
I had to admit he's right, and since that day, I check and re-check the stroller buckle.
Especially in Wal-Mart.
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