Here I am. Pushing the stroller through the mall with one leg soaking wet, my baby crying in front of me and purchases, purse and diaper bag overflowing out of the basket. This is me, making a fast getaway. An escape from our table at the food court. You may have seen it. And if not ours, certainly another of the sort.
You know the one I’m talking about. Crackers and various food bits under the table. The sticky highchair not returned. Possibly a drink spilled and running over the edges. Napkins lay strewn over the table but the crumbs have not been wiped.
I can not resist a quick glance back while I am making a break for it. A mini tornado has landed. People walk by shaking their heads in wonder at the injustice of just this one table being demolished. Those around it still stand strong. But I can not worry about the why’s right now. I am just relieved to have made it out alive.
So here I am. Hadn’t I sworn I would never be here. Never be one of ‘those’ moms. Proof lies in the apple mush adorning the table edges I suppose.
Details of the disaster are unnecessary. Just know that near the end, my drink was grabbed and the almost full remnants poured all over Kaya. I gasp in horror, she cries in fear, I console out of necessity (please, please stop crying baby!), and we both take off sopping wet.
With no change of clothes for either of us, we seek refuge in the public bathroom. As people come in and out, I hold my naked baby on one hip, lift up my other leg (the soaked one) adorned with wet baby clothes to the hot air dryer and attempt to dry without burning. Did I mention Kaya does not like blow dryers? To prevent her from wailing, I do a dance, more of a hop really, and sing the first song that comes to mind (A pig in front. A cow behind. Put ’em together and what do you find? A pigcow- Oink-Moooo! Well, that’s silly…)
Only later does it occur to me, I am so ‘that’ mom.
My friend wrote on her facebook status update the other day that she must be a mom now because she cut her hair short and bought her first one-piece bathing suit. I can so relate. We are so ‘those’ moms.
So I wonder, in the entire history of womankind, has every female forever and for always, sworn that they would never be ‘that’ woman only to end up being precisely ‘that’ woman?
And if so, shouldn’t we all just start off seeing each other as being ‘all that’ instead of just ‘that’?