Re-post- because we all have these days:

It had taken two full days to get ready, but, I was on a mission.  To buy my first post-baby pair of jeans.  I had a coupon, a sale and a gift card, the holy trinity of shopping.

I carefully planned and prepared:

  • Diaper bag stocked like a – check
  • Stroller and it’s toys ready and in the car- check
  • Car full of gas- check
  • Walks shoveled to provide safe passage to said vehicle-check
  • Breasts emptied to avoid frontal leakage- check
  • Baby kept awake all morning and ready for a nap- check
  • Credit card ready and (somewhat) willing in my wallet-check
  • Coupon and gift card to help the credit card not cause checkout failure humiliation- check.
  • Mall open for business and sale at my favorite store confirmed- check
  • Dressed in clothing (almost) suitable for public viewing-  check. (Well, I had shoes on, not slippers with my comfy mom-sweats.  That was the main difference between my public/private attire:P)

I loaded my little baby burrito (well he looked like one in his brown snowsuit and extra blanket) into his car seat, aware that the great mommy-stopwatch had started ticking.  I had exactly 2 hours before his next feeding, plenty of time to get to the mall and find a pair of pants that fit, before a nursing break, right?

I could do this.

I had everything under control.

Or so, I thought.

Pulling into the mall parking lot, I ran into my first problem: parking.  It was January and the parking lot had been plowed. Mounds of snow ate up precious near- the door parking spots.  The one spot available was near a sign reading L-7.  It was about equidistance between the mall, and my home.


The stopwatch in my mind marked times’ passage.

“Do I take this spot and hurry in, or do I play parking lot stalker and keep following people with bags hoping to snag a closer spot? Which will take more time?” I went with option L-7.

“I have an extra blanket in the diaper bag. he’ll be toasty, and I can hurry inside.” I told myself.

I struggled to pop open the stroller, then reached in for my little guy. He was asleep.  “SCORE.” Maybe my plan was working. I covered him with the extra blanket I’d packed in the portable babies r us, I mean diaper bag.

Ready, I pushed on.

“Bump.  slush, bump, splash.”

I hadn’t accounted for off-road like parking lot conditions.

I aimed for the ruts in the snow, lifting the back of the stroller to avoid more bumps.  Like an Iditarod racer- minus the dogs… I pushed on.

TICK. TICK. TICK.           (Click “more” to read the rest:)