When I pulled into the lot at Gelsons yesterday, I knew exactly how I looked. I was in my ugliest sweats, underneath my glasses, I had mascara that was so caked in, there wasn’t an eye makeup remover in the world strong enough to remove it, and my teeth could have used another minute of brushing. But I didn’t care. I was on a mission so that I could get Baby-Ko back home in time for a good morning nap in his crib.
The Gelsons I go to is in a nice area and is always hopping with young hot mommies. In addition to needing milk for the house and some fruits and veggies to make Baby-Ko food, I had plans to go to lie out at N’s pool later that day (while my in-laws watch Baby-Ko. SO excited for a day at the pool) so I wanted to pick them up some beer and grab myself a cup of coffee. As I’m dashing through the store trying to maneuver the stroller with one hand and my pretty shitty coffee in the other, Baby-Ko started to get super fussy and squirmy. (He’s been hit with a double whammy: ear infection AND two teeth cutting through. Poor Guy). I start quietly singing “Wheels on the Bus” to him (it’s my “go-to” song) and he thankfully settles down. Now that he’s distracted, I head for the beer aisle as I don’t want to show up to their house empty handed. I quickly grab a six-pack of Bohemia (on sale. nice) and bee-lined to the check out stand. I have my coffee now (so I don’t need milk) and I have some jarred food at home (so I don’t need the produce).
As I make my way to the check out stand, I pass a super teeny weenie mom with her equally teeny weenie daughter and feel their eyes go straight from Baby-Ko to my basket. At this point, despite my singing, Baby-Ko is totally unhappy, my sunglasses are half off my face, my coffee spilling everywhere, and my six-pack of beer is clank, clank, CLANKING in my basket. Oooh… It’s not what it looks like, I want to say. But I ignore their scrutiny as I spot a new US Weekly at the checkout stand and realize that I’m very out of the loop and it would make great reading material at the pool.
I throw the US Weekly into my basket and get in line. The cashier gives me a disapproving look as I empty my basket filled with the two very un-mommy items. I take out my wallet, prepared to hand him my ID (I always get carded, puh-LEASE!) and possibly an explanation about my morning and my plans for the day…. but he doesn’t card me! I guess my rendition of “Wheels on the Bus” is all the convincing he needed…. That’s right, the wheels on the bus go “round and round.” Now give me my beer.