Of course this happened on April Fool's Day--obviously, this child most definitely has a sense of humor. We can now officially add a new milestone in Bee's baby book. No, he didn't start walking. He didn't speak an entire sentence. He didn't write his first graphic novel and he most definitely did not make me a cup of coffee when he noticed mine was low. He did something even more amazing. He had his first public meltdown. At Target.
Here are moments leading up to the fateful trip...Bee takes a (way too short for my liking) morning nap, in his crib. He wakes up, get a dry bottom and a full bottle. We set off for Target, which is only about five minutes away. Once we get in the car and pull out of the garage, Bee poops. My car begins to smell like a dumpster mixed with a high school boy's locker room. The stench reaches all the way to the front. Of course, we are then stopped for construction. By this time, I'm gagging and my eyes are watering (WTF did I feed him last night?). Bee is starting to whine. Just as I contemplate putting the car in park and changing his diaper in the middle of stopped traffic, we get the go ahead to start driving.
Once we get to Target, I hustle Bee into the bathroom to drop the nuke off. Target bathrooms are GROSS, but we were about to make it even worse. I sent a silent prayer up that this particular diaper is staying at Target. I contemplate using the bathroom myself, but decide I'm better off not wasting the time and get out of there (BAD IDEA--had I known what would happen in the next fifteen minutes, I would've emptied my bladder right then and there).
We head over the the baby section. I grab a few things, then head over to the grocery section. Here's where it gets confusing to me...up until we hit the main food section, Bee was fine. Then all of a sudden, shit hit the fan (not literally, the kid was completely cleaned out from his earlier episode). Full on arching the back, kicking the cart, smacking the cart and screaming. I desperately look to see if his leg is stuck in the cart, but no...all limbs accounted for. No bleeding, no bruises. I look around to see if somebody pinched him without me noticing, nope. I look under the cart (hey, you never know)...nothing.
I'm trying to find something to distract him as I untangle him from the shopping cart seat cover (never before has fabric with a belt attached felt like a freaking Rubik's cube!). No dice, NOTHING is helping. I'm now sprinting down the aisle while pushing the cart with one hand and carrying Bee over the other shoulder. People are staring. I'm sweating like a mothertrucker. I feel like a wild animal running through a gauntlet of poachers.
When we get to the front of the store, I am faced with a gut-wrenching choice--do I pick the most important items from the cart, pay quickly and leave? Or leave with nothing? I choose to pick a few items and get in line. I transfer Bee to under my arm, legs kicking and arms flailing and throw said items on the belt.
I have no clue how much I spent at Target. I'm not even sure I got all the bags, let alone a receipt. I DO know that no rent-a-cop chased me out of the store, so I feel pretty safe in assuming I didn't steal anything or leave anything important behind--except of course, my sanity.
Getting Bee into the car was another ordeal. I may audition for Cirque de Soleil after all of the contorting I was forced into dealing with THAT--I was sweating profusely and breathing like I just ran the hurdles against a high school track team. After securing him in the backseat, I threw the stroller in the trunk and slid into the front seat and turned the AC on full blast. Partly because I WAS that hot, but the fans blowing on high and Justin Timberlake (yes, I said JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE!) playing on the stereo reduced the screaming in the peanut gallery to a somewhat tolerable level for the five minute drive home.
Here's where it gets really good--once we were inside our house, my little terror morphed into an angel. I don't know why. Perhaps Bee likes the way our house smells. I have no clue. And that is perhaps the most frustrating part of the whole afternoon. The fact that I don't know what precipitated the meltdown means that I can't prevent it from happening again. I can only imagine it was any number of things...
After our little dramatic shit show at Target, I thought the universe and it's April Fool's Day pranks were said and done. But, of course not. Since it was such a beautiful day, I put Bee in the stroller and we walk up to get Connor from school. The minute we round the corner of the cul-de-sac, a bird made a deposit on the top of the stroller. Thank goodness I had pulled the sunshade down--otherwise, the poop would've landed directly on Bee's beautiful head of hair.
April Fool's Day was very entertaining this year. I'm glad we got the first public meltdown out of the way early. After all, it gave me a very good glimpse into what I might be dealing with as Bee gets older. I also think I read somewhere that a bird pooping on you (or something you own?) is actually a sign of good luck. I'll go with that theory as my stroller sits in the garage while I mentally prepare to chisel the crap off later.
Never a dull moment.
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