Side note: I could be totally misunderstanding the movie because I have NOT seen it. But do we really believe that Matthew Perry looked like Zac Efron when he was in high school?
My 20's. Meh. A lot of growing still. A lot of "I know EXACTLY what I'm doing", and not really knowing a damn thing.
Early 30's. A lot of "Oh, my god. I really don't know what I'm doing. But I told everyone that I knew what I was doing. So, let me keep trying this tactic because it's working GREAT!" (You see how easily I am fooled?) I have also seen the effects of being out of shape, car accidents, and broken bones. Most of this early decade has been graced with a jumbo 1,000 count bottle of Motrin, courtesy of Costco. I've looked at the expiration date and thought, "Oh yeah, I'll be finished with this WAAAAY before then."
Now, I am solidly into my mid-30's. I hung on to the "Early 30's" label as best I could. In fact, I have tried to hold on to a lot of things that have fallen. Expensive bras, face creams, and promising lotions are now replaced with bra pads, spit up, and singing nursery rhymes ad nauseam. Things will fall where they may. Good thing my stomach is there to hold other parts up.
So, just as I was getting used to fooling myself that I knew what I was doing, I decided to have a kid. Now, I've drastically jumped head first into "OH MY GOD!!! I'M GOING TO SCREW THIS KID UP!!!"
Of all things in the world, a child keeps you honest. At least mine does. Maybe he'll have a future in the judicial system. He'll look at me when I do something stupid and the look on his face is screaming, "Really? YOU are going to raise me?"
Like when I put him in the car (which takes me 10 minutes because of the extensive strapping down system called a car seat) he miraculously sits patiently through it all as I pull his arms through the straps, then tug at his legs to get the buckle free, and then snap the chest strap snugly level with his arm pits (as the instructions say to do). Quietly he sits, watching me as I contort his body into Lock-Down position and tell him stories of way long ago about how when I was a kid seat belts weren't the law and how I could have legally thrown him in the back of a truck with the dog. However, he does not sit quietly as he tells me (through body language) that the buckle for the seat belt is scorching hot because it's been roasting in the car in 100+ degree weather. So, okay, he is not the perfect child.
This routine (I dare not say my daily routine because I sometimes give up the notion of getting out of the house if I've been trying for more than two hours.) is then followed by me getting behind the wheel, putting on my seat belt, starting the car, backing out of the driveway and then realizing that I've forgotten my wallet. I then re-park the car, put all the windows down, run to the door, then run back to the car because I've forgotten that I need the house keys. After I grab the house keys, I race about the house looking for my wallet. Mind you, the boy is still in the car because I'm not going to go through that whole shenanigan again. Racing, racing, racing, WHERE IS MY WALLET???? Well, maybe I did put it in the car. So, I check the car again and there it is sandwiched between a peed on diaper and yesterday's half eaten lunch, a Luna Bar. I'm remembering now that the wallet has been left there since yesterday so it smells kind of funny. What I actually forgot in the house is my phone. Go back to the house, NOW WHERE IS MY PHONE??? Oh, there it is, in his play crib hidden underneath all of his toys. I totally do not remember putting it there. Oh, and there's my sunglasses. I meant to grab those too. Race back to the car just in time to see the boy's expression on his face. "Really? YOU are going to raise me? I'm supposed to put my health in your trust?"
And this is how it is for me getting out of the house. Now, this does sound lame. I admit, it sounds like I am not of sound mind and body. But I'll have you know that during yesterday's excursion, after only two times of in and out, in and out of the car seat, my husband handed me the boy for his third visit to the car seat and said, "Your turn."
Uh-huh. That's what I thought. It wears on you. The car seat alone is enough for you to go criminal. Once, he was asleep in the car seat, so I raced into the pet store to get some dog food. Success. Of course it helped that I yelled at the cashier as soon as I entered, "SLEEPING KID IN THE CAR. I NEED DOG FOOD. NOW!" I think that because I was not holding a gun, she got over the shock of thinking that this was a robbery. The next day, however, I've learned that I could actually get fined for leaving a child in the car. I understand that I have just incriminated myself. But it was an ugly and desperate situation. Since he'd already been in and out of the car seat five times that day, I was thoughtful about my child endangerment. I left all the windows open and made sure to take my car keys with me. I also parked illegally in front of the store entrance to be close to him. And then of course, wouldn't you know it? There was a news story about a car jacking some where in LA where two kids were also kidnapped because they were left in the car. Okay, yes a horribly scary story and lesson learned. But I'd like to point out, isn't there some stupid advice about "Never wake a sleeping baby"? You just can't win.
Who ever gave that advice never had a child that slept in the car. Or perhaps they never ran errands. Otherwise, you'd be driving around in circles all day long just waiting for him to wake up so that you could legally run your errands. Yes, I have done this.
So, now I'm another year older. This time with a baby to show me all my flaws. I take that back. The boy loves me no matter what, at least for now. My society is quick to show me all my flaws. I'm doing the best I can.
A few hours have passed now since I wrote the above. I'm coming back to my entry as my birth date nears completion. I just wanted to say that I had a wonderful day. My husband made me breakfast. Then we actually got out of the house to go for a hike. It was after 4pm by the time we got in the car, but never the less, we got out. Then I had an incredible meal prepared for me. Again, my husband came through. And I end my birthday nursing the boy. He sat up from his feeding, leaned over and spat up onto my leg. I watched it drip down my sock and straight into my shoe. I LOVE my family.
Happy Birthday, Momma.
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