Going for a Walk

I went for a walk. The sun was shining, birds singing. The air, crisp. A lovely day to get outside.

And it’s a simple task. You put some shoes on, glance at yourself in the mirror to make sure you look half decent, then out the door you go. You spend some time in the sunshine walking then go back home. Easy.

But I have a baby so there are some added steps. It goes something like this. Make sure she’s fed, changed, dressed, wait was that fart, poop? Should I check her diaper again? Yes. I check her diaper again. Clean! Dodged a bullet there. But of course, it takes five minutes to wrestle her pants back on. “Mommy, don’t you know I have more important things to do than get dressed?”

Should I take her in the stroller? Or, hey, maybe we can try the Moby today. Haven’t done that in a while. Should be fun. I spend several minutes tying the damn wrap around my body, trying to prevent my shirt from bunching up underneath it in the process. Okay. it’s tied on. Time to put the baby in. Wait. I have to pee. Okay. Now I’ll put her in the wrap.

Lots of fiddling ensues. I try to put her in facing me, but she just keeps squirming and wanting to face outward. Little thing wants to see the world! So I oblige her. In she goes, facing out. She’s happy. Good.

Shit. I forgot to put my boots back on. Now I must attempt the acrobatic feat of bending with a 16 pound baby hanging off the front of me. Fun! But I manage. The boots are on, people. The boots are on! But hmm, if I’m going out, I better stop by the market because we’re almost out of toilet paper and that would be a bad thing to run out of. So I’ll go to the market. Yay! A walk with a purpose! But wait, that means I need to take my purse. And I’ll need to carry a bag home from the store. I can’t carry anything while she’s in the wrap. Yes, it’s hands-free but she wiggles so much, I like to have a hand on her at all times. Okay, so it looks like I’m bringing the stroller anyway.

Forty-five minutes later I’m heading out the door. Wait, she ate two hours ago, she’ll probably get hungry while we’re out. Should I get a bottle? Yes. Maybe. Do I really want to whip my boob out while walking down the street? I don’t think I could manage that anyway. Not that coordinated. Eh, I’ll risk it.

I give myself a glance in the mirror. This is what I see:

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Then it’s out the door we go. The stroller lists to the right. September pulls her arm out of the wrap, trying to twist toward me. So I steer the stroller with one hand and hold onto her tummy with the other. We’re managing though. Good god, we’re managing!

We get to the market, buy toilet paper and a few other items then leave. All is good. Of course, that’s when the wind kicks up. Every step is taken straight into the wind. The resistance keeps blowing off her hat. At one point, I chase the damn thing at least twenty feet like I’m in a Buster Keaton bit. The wind is just too much. I put her in the stroller, but of course, this makes her cry. She’s hungry. Ugh. Should have fed her before I left the house.

Too late now. Almost home. We walk and walk and finally we get there. I feed her and she’s happy again. Wearing her in the Moby like that was uncomfortable so I research it online to find out you’re not supposed to wear babies facing out in carriers. It causes hip damage and it puts too much pressure on their spines. Mom fail.

I don’t get around to unloading the things I bought at the market until seven at night, after Matt got home and after dinner. But it all gets done eventually.

Still, sometimes I miss the simplicity of just putting on shoes, checking the mirror, grabbing my keys, and dashing out the door. I really took that for granted.

But September and I go on walks. And she loves them. At the end of the day, that’s all that matters.

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