Charge It

Today I actually got to go shopping for me, by myself. For one frantic hour, I tried to pretend that I didn't have an urgent reason to race home to the baby and enjoyed a brief moment fondling clothing that I hope to fit in to again someday. I almost turned around a few blocks away from the house because I was sure Willem was sending me telepathic baby-to-mommy information that daddy didn't know what the hell he was doing and couldn't stop his crocodile tears from flowing. I feel this way because a couple of times I've gone out to run a VERY quick errand, husband has called to say not that Willem was crying but that he was FREAKING OUT and I needed to come home NOW! Of course, hearing his heaving, sobbing voice in the background makes my boobs engorge, my head spin, and I break the sound barrier in my truck. This morning, I raced to south Austin to my favorite store, nearly creamed a couple of families in the parking lot, and practically ran inside. Knowing the layout of this place very well, I cruised my normal browsing route at warp speed, tried on a couple of items in the middle of the store over my clothes (who has time to walk all of the way to the dressing room?), and had great success in the shoe department where I realized that although my son got my eyes, he has given me big feet. I already possessed a couple of built in barefoot skis and now they are Telluride snowboards. I grabbed the mommy-friendly boats and hightailed it to check out. As I write this, I realize I completely forgot about shopping the baby section of the store. In a way this IS a success story.