I apologize to every defenseless mom I have ever scowled at with my death ray stare because their child was screaming in a store.
As you might imagine, being a mom is no easy task. There are countless details to tend to before ever even thinking about leaving the house, and I, being a new mom and completely unpracticed at the art of baby related common sense, chose to take Clara to JoAnn Fabric with only one binkie in tow (though the experience I am about to relay to you was traumatic, it was nothing compared to the Great Grocery Trip of 2011 where there were NO binkies in tow.) I was having a grand old time. I had a sleeping baby; a mind full of wonderful crafting ideas; it was the Coupon Commotion promotion. All signs pointed to my dreams coming true; my dreams of prancing up and down the aisles in slow motion while rainbows danced behind me and all the items I needed bounced and bounded their way into my cart. There were singing birds and butterflies flitting in synch. It was magical, my dream.
As I rounded the corner to the notions aisle there was an earth-shatering scream that made my day crumble right where I stood. A terrible, rotten, disgusting, vile little brat of a child began vocalizing his need for something hooked to the wall (though what he wanted down the notions aisle, I'll never know. An eye and hook perhaps to adhere to his huge freaking mouth!!!) I looked into the eyes of the child's mother and for about one millisecond, my life stood still. I felt like I was suspended in time, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon style. Clara woke up. Panic ensued.
I tried to reason with her. Anything to keep her in her car seat so I could shop, but she wasn't having it. I gave in, picking her up, rocking her, doing everything in my power to soothe her so I wouldn't have to cut my trip short. I gained lots of practice in one handed cart pushing and even though my arm was cramping up, I pressed on, determined to find the perfect black poly satin for the Cardinals football blanket I've been working on. I had given her the binkie when I picked her up; the binkie she dropped about a dozen times onto the disease ridden floor. The binkie I had to clean each and every time it tumbled to the ground.
Though the trip hadn't turned out the way I imagined, I was making due with the lemons life was pelting me with. I was picking through bolts of quilting cotton, finagling with color combos in my head. It was then that Clara began to whimper. I looked around at my feet, searching for the binkie I knew she had dropped. I didn't see it.
I began making tiny steps backward to see if a new perspective would reveal the lost binkie.
Whimpering turned to mild discontent.
I searched around the corner, retracing my steps.
Discontent turned to frustration cries.
I hurriedly rounded another corner.
Where could it be?
Frustration turned to all out pissed off baby.
People were looking at me like I was a monster; like I had swung my child up by her ankles and twirled her around my head, then pinched her. The moment turned to chaos. I couldn't think. Where was that stinking binkie?! I fled the store leaving my cart of wonderful goodies behind. She screamed all the way home.
As I said: traumatic experience. I decided to do something about it and that's when I came up with the binkie leash... thing. I don't actually know what they are called and I don't actually know if I made them "right", but I do know that they work. I loved my ingenuity so much, I made eight.
And in case you were wondering, she was fine once we got home.
The moral of the story? Avoid jerk kids in stores.