Whenever I get pregnant, I space-out for nine months. I define the word "absent-mindedness". I'm always losing something I need or forgetting about something. Basically, I lose my mind. Just last week, I brought my boys to the grocery store to get a few things and walked right up to the exit door. I just stood there for two seconds wondering why the doors wouldn't open when the entrance doors next to us opened for someone else. This pregnancy hasn't been as bad, but I recall a time when my absent-mindedness cost me a huge amount of embarrassment. When I was pregnant with Justin, Nathanael was in pre-K and Caleb was barely 2. We had a little Kia Sephia at the time instead of our van with only two little ones sitting in the backseat. Three days a week, I took Nathanael to his adorable little class at a Christian school in town. I always liked to walk him to the door and get a kiss and hug before saying goodbye. I would then walk back to the car and to my other little one waiting for me. During one particular morning, I did all those things and came back to my idling car with Caleb in his carseat in the back. I lifted the door handle and....it wouldn't open. I had locked the car with the car running and my baby was in it. I could feel my whole body heat up and panic coming on. I ran to the window on Caleb's side hoping the little thing would understand his mommy's sign language and unlock his door. He just looked at me like I was a mad woman and unlike his mommy didn't panic. A nice lady saw my predicament and called the fire department. That's right. The big tough guys with the shiny red truck that screams down the road ready to fight fire or jimmy open car doors for pregnant women. As the nice lady and I stared at Caleb through the window waiting for help, we heard a distant scream of the siren. I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole. They rounded the corner and were here to the rescue. They got the car unlocked while everyone came out of their houses to watch and I gratefully expressed my thanks with a red face and sheepish smile. As I pulled away from the curb finally to flee the scene of my embarrassment, I reminded myself it could have been worse. At least I didn't have to pay them. I know. I'm so cheap.
Doc and I have actually been tweeking with the idea of going on a date. I know. Totally weird. Not the idea of doing something romantic. It's the idea that we actually might have the guts to dump our offspring on some unsuspecting person. This has always been a hard decision for us to make. I mean, we do watch the news and let's face it, we're paranoid. That's probably why we haven't been on a real date that didn't include scarfing down our food as fast as we can and running back home to see if it's still standing and no one is bleeding. Just the other day, I asked Doc, "So, are we going out for Chinese tonight?" I was crossing my fingers mentally, chewing on my lip. I so wanted to be irresponsible. We haven't been on a date in forever and I was craving Chinese like crazy. I suggested that our 13-year-old son get a chance to hold down the fort for a couple hours. I even turned on my sexy voice and said, "We'll have our cell phone with ...
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