You Know You’re a Mommy when...
...you finally go out on a hot date with your honey, and end the evening at Walmart buying eggs, diapers, & toilet paper.
And you have the diaper bag with you, even without the baby.
Yes, its true.
Had a much-anticipated date-nite yesterday evening. Met up with another couple; some dear friends who have four boys, almost exactly the same ages as our youngest four.
After the usual rigmarole of figuring out who is keeping the little ones, I did the frantic mommy-square-dance of flitting between dinner prep for the crew, trying to get ready, nursing the baby, and going over final school lessons for the day.
At the last minute I decided to leave the baby for the first time. He is finally eating some veggies & drinking from a sippy cup, so I plotted out feeding & bedtime for him with the older kids, figuring I could wake him for nursing when we got home. First date sans baby – woohoo!!
It was a lot to juggle, but pretty straight-forward...except for getting myself ready. At seven months postpartum, I never know from one day to the next what set of clothes will fit. I’m long since out of my ‘post-pregnancy’ sizes, and mostly done with my ‘transition clothes’ – but not quite into all my regular things. Men roll their eyes at this, but women know: having four pairs of jeans in four different sizes is practically a necessity. At least during the child-bearing years. (Just did the math to realize that I’ve been pregnant or nursing for 10 years of my life so far. Yikes.)
ANYway...I was clearly demonstrating postpartum hormones & transition, as it took me almost 2 hours and trying on every shirt in my closet, to eventually find something to wear.
We were finally heading out, only half an hour late, when I spilled purple juice all down the front of my just-barely-fitting French-blue button-up shirt, and denim skirt. #$*%^&!* You know what I mean??? No, there weren’t any kids around...
We decidedly did NOT have time to go back home & let me spend 2 more hours finding something else to wear, so instead, we whipped back down the driveway & grabbed the diaper bag, which held baby wipes & a little bottle of ‘Oxy’ stain remover.
Raced back out, heading to our friend’s house, and I’m #!%*$% all the way, diaper bag at my feet, scrubbing Oxy & baby wipes across my bust & down the lap of my used-to-be-cute-&-sexy little denim skirt.
Miraculously, it all came out. Go, Oxy!!
So we head to this fun restaurant in Manitou Springs, talking & laughing & having a great time. Their 2-month baby boy slept peacefully the entire time...which was a gift to our evening, but I suspect cost them later in the night.
At about 9pm we all started fading. Still having a great time...but laughably showing our age & parental status, as we made fun of each other’s bloodshot eyes & jaw-popping yawns.
And then it happened:
My friend Amanda confessed that they had to stop by Walmart & get some diapers. We were game, ‘cause after all, the fun was in being together, right? And, uh...we urgently need diapers too...
So we end up standing in the diaper aisle of Walmart, in all our date-nite perfumed & cologned & barely-fitting-denim-skirt glory, and my feet are killing me, ‘cause who goes traipsing thru Walmart in just-for-my-hubby, sexy black, sling-back-3-inch-heel-sandals? And Kevin's hand is on my lower back as we talk about the merits of ‘Luvs’ verses ‘Parents Choice’ and how baby Nekoda has just moved up to size 3, and I look around & realize we are such parents.
And I’m okay with that.
It’s a good life. Even with the urgent-Walmart-diaper-run infringing on our date-nite. I still thrill to Kevin’s touch as he surreptitiously grazes his hand across my rear at the check-out counter, and I search in my purse for any toilet paper coupons.
I am such a Mommy.
