Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
“Mia, we need to go grocery shopping,” I tell her. I’m sitting on the couch, sipping a glass of sweet tea. It’s early afternoon on Saturday, and this is our weekly routine. Of course, she has no idea what I’m saying, but she still smiles at me, and that melts this momma’s heart.
I let her play for a few more minutes, which consists of her bouncing on her legs and squealing in delight as those tiny hands grip the couch cushion for all she’s worth. When she drops to the floor, I wait for a cry, but instead, she juts out her bottom lip and crawls to where I’m sitting in the recliner, pulls herself up, and reaches for me with one hand, while the other holds her steady.
“Come here, you.” Lifting her into my lap, I smother her face with kisses, and her giggles fill the air around us. “You are my favorite,” I tell her, hugging her tightly. “All right, Little Miss. Let’s get your butt changed and pack up the diaper bag, or we’re going to be eating the stale cereal in the cabinet this week.”
Standing, I carry her back to her room, change her, and place her in her crib to keep her contained while I pack the diaper bag. I always overpack because with a baby, you never know what you’ll need. Too many times, we’ve had diaper explosions, and the extra clothes have been a lifesaver. I’m a planner, and I’d rather carry an overstuffed bag than be out and about without what I need on hand to handle whatever situation arises. I might be different if I had a partner in this, but there is no one to call. It’s all on me. Sure, I could call Bellamy or one of the girls, but that’s different. Mia is my responsibility.
“All right, sister, let’s get moving.” Mia’s standing in her crib, bouncing on her legs. I lift her into my arms, and we head to the garage.
After the divorce, I was able to secure a lease for this two-story, two-bedroom, one-car-garage condo. It’s tiny, but it’s ours, and that’s all that matters. Once Mia is strapped into her car seat, toys and binky in place, we hit the road.
Going to the grocery store with a baby is an adventure. She gets restless and wants out of the cart, so I end up carrying her with one arm and pushing the cart with the other. It’s exhausting, and by the time I have Mia loaded into the car, she’s fussy, but I still need to get the groceries loaded.
“Give me five minutes, sweetie,” I tell her, but she’s not having it. She begins to cry, and I know it’s because she’s tired. It’s her naptime, which usually works out great for us, but the store was crowded today, and the cashier who checked us out was training, so it took double the time. It’s not her fault, we all have to learn, but Miss Mia’s not impressed.
Once I get the groceries in the back of my SUV, I slide into the back seat, hit the door locks, and get to work making her a bottle. That’s something else that I’ve learned about motherhood. The best-laid plans can be derailed at any moment. So, instead of heading home, I sit in the back seat, with my daughter in her car seat next to me, feeding her a bottle. Sure, I could have just handed it to her and driven home, but what if she drops it or chokes? It’s not worth it. Besides, we have nowhere to be. Thankfully, it’s April in Tennessee, so it’s not too hot, and we don’t live too far away. The groceries will be fine until Little Miss gets her belly full.
Mia finishes her bottle and falls sound asleep. Quietly, I put the bottle back into her bag, slip out of the back seat, into the driver’s seat, and we’re headed home. We live about twenty minutes away from this store. They have a better baby food section, and besides, twenty minutes isn’t that far, and what else do I have to do? This is an adventure out of the house for my girl and me.
I’m just about five miles from the store when I know something’s wrong. The lights dim, and then it’s just like the car loses power. Quickly glancing in my rearview mirror, I see that it’s clear, so I pull over to the side of the road. I barely make it before everything goes black. Tears prick my eyes because it’s always something. Can the universe not take it easy on me?
I turn off the key and try again, but everything is dead. With a heavy sigh, I lean my forehead against the steering wheel, which I’m also gripping with both fists, and fight the urge to scream. I can’t do that and risk waking my daughter. Instead, I focus on slowing my breathing and getting my emotions under control before lifting my head, digging my phone out of my purse, and calling Bellamy. I hate to rely on her and Reid, but what else can I do? I have no one else to call—well, outside of any of the other girls and their husbands—but Bellamy is my bestie, and even if she can’t help, she can talk me off the ledge, because I feel like I’m about to break down. It’s moments like these where I feel the loneliest.