Sunday, 9 October 2011

Blame it on the Rain

The other day I took the twins out in the stroller for a walk over to the drug store to buy the following necessities:
1) Formula

2) Breast Shields - I was completely out of breast shields and had Macgyvered my own using cotton make-up removal pads and super absorbent paper towels.
3) Moisturizer - my skin has been shockingly dry since the arrival of the minions (no matter how much water I drink) and it appears that they are literally sucking the youth from my pores.

Let me start off by saying that I have access to two double strollers - the one I was currently in possession of belonged to Chris's old boss and the back right wheel is a little messed up because he frequently carted beer cases in the under carriage section...the other stroller, in perfect condition, was at my parents house.*  

I knew I had to beat the rain, so I checked the Weather Network and was assured that it was not due to rain for the next two hours, so I secured both children into the beater stroller** and we were on our way.

We arrived at the drug store and I quickly grabbed some age defying moisturizer and a package of formula, coupon for said formula left on kitchen counter at home, oh well.  I then began to scour the store in search of breast pads.  I finally found the correct section and two empty spaces with price tags where the products should've been.  I flagged down a staff member and asked about the breast pads.  With Molly momentum equals calm, so she began to get fussy.  I started moving the stroller back and forth in place as I awaited the breast pads.  She was having none of it, clearly aware that we weren't going anywhere.  She let out a blood curdling scream, turning red and crying, with giant tears streaming down her face.  I pulled a bottle out of the under carriage and tried to feed her, she spit it out and continued screaming.  Next I tried a soother, which she entertained for about 3 seconds before she gave me her coy You've got to be kidding me look, threw it down the aisle and resumed her screaming.  I pulled her out of the stroller and began to rock her and bounce her while she cried.  Five minutes and a lot of bouncing later the stock person told me that they were completely out of breast pads and suggested that I try the Walmart about 5 blocks away.  I placed a now slightly calmer Molly back into the stroller and she immediately started to freak out again. We headed to the giant line at the front of the store. I tried to settle Molly again with no success, drawing unwanted attention to my Motley Crew.

As I pulled Molly out of the stroller to comfort her yet again a "concerned" mother approached me and said, "Your son is slumped over in the stroller and he's going to hurt his neck".  

Let me state that my first mistake was putting Jack in the front section of the stroller.  The front seat does not tilt back as much as the back seat and Jack, no matter how many specialty head rests you use, has a habit of flopping his head every which way when he falls asleep - a condition that my husband and I affectionately refer to as, "The Exorcist".  Sometimes I swear his head is completely upside down. "Oh, thanks." I say as I walk over to fix his floppy head while Molly hollered.  I re-secured Molly into the back seat of the stroller as we moved forward in line.  She squealed again.  I looked down at my shirt and come to the realization that I am not Macgyver and that those paper towels weren't really super absorbent.  Another "concerned" mom in the line next to me calls over, "his head is flopped again, you know you should really get a stroller that leans all the way back.  If he hurts his neck it's going to be your fault." I tried to adjust him again, he flopped forward further, sound asleep nearly banging his head off of the table tray in front of him.  I finally get him secured to a normal position and then realize that I am next in line.  As the cashier begins to scan my order she asks, "Are they twins?" I nod and hand over my debit card as Molly screams and I leak like a fountain.  I feel like I am in a weird episode of the Twilight Zone where people can only hear and see Jack and are unaware that my daughter is having a complete meltdown.  The woman in line behind me taps me, she has what appears to be a six year old asleep in a stroller, "You know the back wheel of your stroller is all messed up, you should really get that fixed."  "Thank you, I know." I say with a fake smile.  I try to move forward and the messed up wheel launches me into the cashier's desk.  "Are they identical twins?" asks the cashier.  "I just need to pay for my stuff and go home. Please!" I beg over Molly's screams.

I finally make it outside and Molly sighs twice, a noise that means that she is finally vanquished and is about to fall asleep.  The sky opens up and it begins to pour, yet both children remain quiet and unfloppy the entire walk home - away from the judging eyes of other mothers.  I'm not going to lie and pretend that I didn't cry just a little bit on my walk home, and that there wasn't a phone call made to my husband where I berated him for telling me he was certain I could "beat the rain".     My only consolation is that you can no longer tell that I've leaked milk all over my shirt.***

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*The other GOOD stroller was held hostage at my parents house because my mother was paranoid that it would be stolen, you know when I abandon it outside stores with the babies inside.
**Everyone has been exceptionally generous with giving us hand-me-downs and saved us so much time and money due to their generosity, let me assure you that we are very grateful, however, my complaints about the condition of this stroller and the stroller hostage situation are pertinent to the latter details of the story.
***I have since acquired the other stroller.  I have promised my mother that I will use a bike lock if I leave it anywhere outside my car trunk or garage.

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