So in the midst of shopping (this is quite fun, if only I could go back to my normal size…), the fire alarm comes on really loudly waking our sleeping little lady in her pink bassinet. We are about to try on some stuff in the changing rooms, mostly laughing because nothing fits, when she starts wailing (trying to compete with the alarm). The second we start to think that we should be doing something (other than trying to nurse a screaming baby in a Ross dressing room), like take this blaring seriously and I don’t know, maybe leave the store, it stops. Just like that. We shrug our shoulders and smile.
Baby has had enough though, she is very fussy (very unlike her) and not satisfied at all with my boob food (so much for easily assessable milk on the go). The thing is, she shouldn’t be hungry because I feed her (a lot) right before we left and there is no way there has been three our, this young gal is already starting to go off schedule. As I wheel her off to the cash registry (sobbing and hick upping in her fancy ride) I notice something disturbing; her diaper is leaking all over the place and no matter how sweet smelling people say breast milk poo is, mixed with a little bit of formula and some supplements with that mustard/seedy consistency I think it’s quite “yucky” as my son would say. Well anything coming from my princess booty is adorable right!? Making a U-turn leaving mom at the cash register I’m steering towards the restrooms (maybe bathrooms is a better word since “rest” is not the whole truth… but come to think of it neither is “bath”, stupid! It’s not like you are taking a bath in there!), anyways, as I’m heading for the toilets I see that a rather large woman in some kind of security guard uniform is blocking the entry door. I timidly roll up, quietly pointing towards my tiny baby and her soaked baby bottom, laughing a little nervously (this lady looks very stern). She melts however (who wouldn’t, baby is so sweet…or maybe she is just feeling sorry for the baby’s mama) whispering for me to make it quick. It is now I smell the smoke, that’s odd, does this mean there was a real fire?
When changing baby’s diaper I glance towards a stall which is now completely black; what the heck happened in there? Baby girl won’t let me pee, even though I never pass up an opportunity to do so, small bladder and all, while waiting like a good girl in her stroller. I do what all moms have done at some (or several) point(s), juggle the baby while I multitask AKA holding my poor daughter while using the bathroom (toilet). I now overhear the stern guard talking to someone, catching little snippets like “crazy”, “insane”, “psycho” and “police on their way”. Again, what the H happened here?? I finish up, (no buttons on yoga pants makes everything easier) briefly letting baby cry in bassinet as I wash my hands. I struggle with holding her and pushing the stroller at the same time (she still seems so fragile and it’s not like I can put her on my hip (I long for the age when you can put a sturdy baby on your hip and they actually hang on, so convenient!) making my way to pay for the items my mom is patiently holding by the check-out counters. I can’t wait to tell her about the restroom/bathroom/toilet drama!
We pick up our food from Islands (hello tuna sandwich without guilt!) and as I wait for our order, mom is walking crying baby girl in the parking lot. It still feels so weird not holding her. The bartender gives me a free diet coke while I wait and I sit down at the bar in a moment of freedom, maybe I’ll just have a couple sips I think to myself pushing the guilt aside. It feels so nice just to sit. I almost put my head on my arms for a mini nap right there but somehow manage to resist. Then the Pharrell (is that his name?) song “Happy” comes on, the same song they played on the radio right after my baby girl was born healthy and had been wheeled off to the NICU. What a trigger! I instantly feel tears in my eyes and stinging in my nose. Well no rest for this mama, I head our into the bright sun shine to release my mother, even though the food isn’t even ready yet. Mom can go grab it, I need to see my favorite girl!