We three stay-at-home souls were climbing the apartment walls yesterday afternoon. And for the toddler member of our group, I mean that literally. Quite literally.
It was so time for a walk. Like, past time for a walk.
But, you see, there are two of them. And one of me. And the grandmothers and grandfathers and aunts and cousins and such have all cleared out. So, we've been inside the building for days. Cowering in fear. Of the traffic, the bustling sidewalks, the achy incision, the heat, the logistics...you get the idea.
But it was time.
It takes three preparatory diaper changes (JF, A, then JF again) and the locating of two pairs of shoes and one pair of booties. I wear the Moby wrap with one tiny baby tucked inside and his head supported with my right hand. Andrew wears the backpack tether, with the strap wrapped thrice around my wrist and his chubby little hand firmly grasped in my left hand. We carry only keys and go just a few blocks.
We reach our usual afternoon play place, only to find that military marches are being blared over loudspeakers in preparation for a Labor Day program. Thus, Andrew will do nothing but cling to my leg and quiver. We turn back to meander through the farmer's market. We make it through, admiring watermelons and completely avoiding the evil eye of the farmer lady who worries that the little guy will squeeze her tomatoes. (He only did that once, I tell ya!)
Just out of the farmer's market, I notice a suspicious substance at the crook of Andrew's arm. Upon confirming that it has indeed been left there by a bird and having nothing with me but keys, I wipe it off with my finger. (The things we mothers are called to do!) But now I've got a nastified finger, no free hand, and two little ones still to shepherd home. I decide I'll just have to scrape my finger off on the window ledge of the restaurant in front of us. I am sweaty and bedraggled, have one baby hanging from my chest and another clenched between my knees so he won't run off and am playing a veritable game of hot potato with these droppings.
Naturally, it is at this moment that I first notice the restaurant patron seated just inside that window who is watching this production with great interest. And perhaps a bit of disgust. Our apologies, ma'am, and bon appetit!
But we made it home, safe and sound. We got a dose of sunshine and a stretch of the legs. And it can now be said that we have left the building.
However, I think we'll stay in today.