I have been very proud of my ability to get out of the house while on maternity leave. It is no easy feat getting us both clean, dressed and out the door. Yet, I have been able to run errands, meet friends for lunch, join a new-mom group, make the rounds introducing him to coworkers, doctors, and our church family. You would think that in our eleventh week, I'd have system down to a science.
Today, we had big plans to make it downtown for lunch and then attend a class preparing me for my return to work. I thought things were going well. Bennett was chirping happily at the animated monkey on his bouncer. I was showered. The dog was walked. Rocky even cleaned the snow off of my car. I should have known today there was a gray cloud following me when I couldn't find my favorite pair of jeans. The only presentable pair I own was fresh out of the wash and still damp. I was desperate to make it to lunch. So, what did I do? I wore wet jeans out of the house. In January.
I packed Bennett into his carseat wimpering because I had the audacity to put a hat on his hairy head. We made it all the way to the end of the driveway before I had to turn the car off. He was screaming. Even for a child who dislikes red lights, he was putting on quite the show. I thought I was going to have to cancel. I was having one of those "I washed my hair for this?" moments. I had to salvage my plans for my sanity and so I sat in the car patting his back until he calmed down and fell asleep. Somehow, we still managed to make it on time.
Other than smacking strangers with a stroller, lunch was lovely. Bennett napped through the entire thing. Unfortunately, he woke up when I tried to put his hat back on. The kid was red-faced and angry. Because we were downtown, there wasn't a sanitary, safe place to change his diaper and he was too loud and upset to feed him in public. I changed his diaper on my lap. In the backseat. Of course, as soon as I buckled him in, a loud noise eminated from his seat. There was no doubt he needed to be changed again. I just couldn't get a break.
When I went to pick up the car after the class, I realized not only had I lost the parking ticket, I couldn't find my cell phone. The valet held my baby as I dug through every pocket looking for the ticket. Bennett started crying again and the little old lady walking down the street asked me where my child's hat was. Did she not know putting on his hat started this disaster of a day? I wasn't going there again.
But just to prove my child isn't always a screaming, crying mess, I present to you twenty seconds of squeals. If only I could hire those swinging monkeys for car rides.