Lady, You’re Going to Need to Back Up

Yesterday morning,  I had an awesome workout that began at 5:45, after I woke up with a start at 5:15.  My mind convinced me that Piper was crying; crying very hard and for very long and I had been incorporating it into my dream, and oh no! and get her now! and all of that.  But none of it was true.  She was sleeping.  Still sleeping since 7:30 when she’d been laid down to sleep.  Not a peep out of her.  She was all pushed up into the corner of her bassinet as she is wont to do, so peaceful and serene, but I was wide awake.  

I grabbed my gym shoes, threw on my clothes and headed off to workout.  Somewhere between last Friday when I’d been at the gym and Saturday night, I lost my both my driver’s license and my gym card.  I lost them both because they hang out together in a little plastic sleeve.  I still have no idea where they could be, have looked everywhere, and am at a complete loss.  I also am driving very carefully and praying that I do not get pulled over and then hauled ‘downtown’ and my babies made wards of the state and all that.  It would be tragic.  I need to find those cards. So, anyway, I give the guy my info and have an awesome workout – no creepers following me around, nobody trying to go the same speed as me on the machines, everybody doing their own thing while trying to listen in on the old ladies’ conversations around them. I got 30 minutes of cardio time and then I circuit trained for a while.  I left for home a little before seven.

Piper was up then and Jud was holding her and the bottle I’d prepared for her before I left was not being touched.  She did not want it.  He was not forcing it.  And then he reminded me that he was supposed to be meeting people for breakfast, as he does every Tuesday, and that he was now very late.  I hadn’t finished making his lunch before I went to the gym, but he grabbed what was there and took off.  I sat down, still nasty from sweating, to feed the baby and felt so sorry for not remembering. 

****

Post morning nap and the next feeding, I got both of the kids dressed and was about to head out the door, when I realized that not having my id meant I was going to need to go INTO the bank.  No drive through privileges for people who cannot identify themselves.  This was going to be slightly more cumbersome than I’d originally planned.  Off we went to the city offices to pick up a permit.  We passed the fire station to get there and Gideon went crazy.  He thought we were going there, with the trucks and the sirens and helmets and boots.  He thought Poppy was there.  He thought we should stop.  I tried to be cheery as we passed it and went to a slightly less entertaining building. Once we pulled up, I did the usual routine.  

Exit car.

Open trunk.

Assemble stroller.

Remove car seat from base.

Secure car seat in stroller.

Unlock stroller wheels.

Stroll to other side of car.

Remove toddler.

Demand toddler hold my hand.

Attempt to push stroller one handed.

Look like drunken mother while maneuvering stroller with one hand.

Coax toddler to press the handicap door buttons with his free hand to enter building.

Enter building with slightly disappointed toddler and crying infant.

Conduct business and leave.

This scenario played out again at the bank.  Same deal. Same story.

Except I left out the part that is the real reason I dread these events.  It’s the part where random people (usually women) attack me with advice that I do not need, want or desire.  It usually goes something like

“You’re baby isn’t happy!” (oh, really?  I thought the quivering tongue scream meant she was pleased)  

“You should pick her up!” (why hadn’t I thought of unstrapping her from her car seat and thus encumbering my hands for dealing with all of the paperwork/groceries/checkbook/money?  You are right! This transaction that should last about point two seconds would be much more fun when drawn out by a baby who is screaming and flailing about)

“She’s hungry.  Are you hungry, baby?  She’s hungry.  You should feed her.”  (Why hadn’t I thought of that?  Could it be because I just fed her not ten minutes ago?  But you are right to guess one of the tiny possibilities that could be wrong with a baby. You had pretty good odds of choosing the right one – hungry, tired, annoying diaper, ill, bored.  Yep.  That’s about it.  So, what were your odds?  One in five.  Hmm.  Too bad you LOST)

Yesterday, the bank situation devolved so quickly that the entire bank was staring at us as we maneuvered about – wide eyed toddler in tow, tiny infant angry about being in her car seat, annoyed mother wishing that she knew where her license was – when some lady got all up in our business and continued badgering us with talk of how “the baby is hungry!” even after I’d put both kids in the car and she was across the parking lot from us.  She actually yelled “You should feed her!” at me while I was walking to my side of the car.  I had other thoughts about what I should do. Namely, to go home. 

Not hungry.