In a moment of passive-aggression, I made a comment to Jake the other night about how he doesn’t participate in the baby’s care. I was frustrated. He went to work the next day, and when he came home, he was a new man. He immediately relieved me of Fussy McFusses Alot as soon as he walked in the door. He instructed me to take a break, and proceeded to walk around with her, talk nonsense and sing. Wow. Later, I got her in bed, but she decided she was having none of it. Jake went to her, rocked her, walked her, and got her back to sleep. He was so proud of himself. And I was so proud of him. Me thinks a new leaf has turned. Jake+Adeline=true love. And today he vacuumed the house for me. Swoon.
My aunt gave us some cash to use as we saw fit. My plan was to bank it. Jake thought otherwise. He decided I deserved a treat, and insisted that I buy myself some new clothes. I do love this man! He pointed out that I never do anything for me. So a trip to Target was planned. We decided to go as a family on the great first time ever shopping excursion. Hindsight shows that this was poorly planned.
I fed baby A. She seemed happy enough. So off we went at five PM. With minimal fussing in the car, we arrived at the store. Jake bought me a Starbuck’s, and himself some popcorn. We collected the necessities. By the time we hit the baby department, baby A was quite done. She started to fuss her nanana cry, which means feed me. Dilemma. We had a cart full of stuff. I had never nursed in public. What to do? I tried bribing her with presents. No dice. We scanned the baby section for something to distract her. Yeah, you can’t distract a two month old who is hungry. So I grabbed a nursing shawl and opened it, and damned if I didn’t walk around Target feeding my baby. She was happy while I picked out my clothes. Jake took her while I tried on some jeans. (Let’s have a moment of silence for my size four body.) None fit. Baby was crying. I snagged a couple of .ahem. slightly larger jeans and a couple of cute tops, and we headed for checkout. By this time baby A was in a full-on fit. I told Jake to take her to the car nowpleasebeforeIhaveanervousbreakdown. The cashier was awesome. She asked how old baby A was, and I told her. She was so kind to me, even though my kiddo had made a huge scene in the checkout line.
All in all, it was a successful trip. I got some new duds. And a new nursing shawl. We will have clean dishes and toilets. And I will not be shopping again in the evening with baby A. Stupid mommy should have known better than that.
Now I am having an internal battle. I dearly want to go get my nails done. I haven’t had nails in over a year. It is expensive, and vain, and not necessary. But they look soooo pretty when they’re done. Do I or don’t I?