"Is it worth it?"
This is the thought that repeatedly came to mind as I was preparing to get the two boys and me out of the house this morning. Yes, our outing to Barnes & Noble was going to be worth it. It would distract all of us for at least an hour and give us something to look at besides each others' faces.
We parked in front of the store and I made the necessary preparations:
- I took my wallet, phone, and keys out of the diaper bag,
- hid the bag under a blanket on the floor of the back seat (because I didn't want to lug that thing around with me; it's like having to keep track of a third child),
- unbuckled a sleeping basher, stuffed him into the Snugli, and strapped him onto my front like a marsupial, and
- went around to the other door to unbuckle the punk.
This is when he decided to tell me that he "has a poop." So I:
- uncovered the diaper bag,
- retrieved a diaper and the wipes,
- laid a crying baby on the floor of the front seat in his Snugli,
- reclined said front seat, and
- changed the punk's diaper right there in the parking lot.
- Then I sanitized my hands and the punk's (at his request),
- strapped the baby to my person,
- grabbed my wallet, phone and keys,
- locked the car,
- threw away the messy diaper, and
- went into the book store.
I read a couple books to the punk and otherwise let him wander in the children's section. The basher made it known that he did not appreciate when I stopped moving, so I told my tired body to keep walking even though all I wanted to do was lie down on the floor and take a nap. A very long nap. A "wake me up in a few months" kind of nap. But since that wasn't an option today, I just walked.
The basher did fall asleep for a few minutes, so I sat on a bench while the punk made a mess (which we cleaned up before we left - my mild sleep deprivation hasn't left me completely devoid of manners). After a very short rest, I stood up to get the punk started on the tidying process, and a fellow parent noticed the bundle on my chest. "Wow, a brand new one!"
"Yes," I said as I started heading toward the punk.
"Don't forget your wallet," he said. So I turned around to see my zebra wallet sitting on the bench, waiting to be abandoned.
"Oh, thanks," I sighed.
"Don't worry," he smiled. "You'll sleep in about 9 months."