The Barnacles

This says it all:

Last night, after we put the babies down (after I had rocked Luke for some time because he had slipped in the bath tub and knocked the heck out of us head and lay there flat on his back, naked, screaming, looking up at me with terror in his eyes and that look that says, “why did you let this happen to me”), we put the blue suitcase on the bed and I took out all my clothes from my trip to Nor Cal last week where I spoke to a so-lovely group of women from Menlo Park Pres, and Steve began loading his clothes into the bag for his week-long trip. Revolving suitcase.

At about 6 this morning, I was back in Luke’s room, back in the rocking chair (I’m wondering if a splitting headache was what woke him up so early) rocking my getting-big-boy back to sleep when Steve snuck in and kissed me a silent kiss goodbye so that Luke wouldn’t stir.

“Bye, babe,” I mouthed to him silently and we both just kind of smiled, knowing that you always do whatever it takes to avoid waking a baby.

When Steve had been gone an hour or so, and the rest of us had a bit more sleep, I loaded the babies into the car and headed to Target for an Americano (there are few things that speak to my heart more completely than a Starbucks inside a Target), VeggieTales, and a frozen pizza for dinner tonight.

While in Target: Lane almost swallowed her faux-flower hair clip, Luke dropped ¼ of a banana which I promptly rolled over with the cart, Steve called on a layover, both babies wore me down until I took them out of their harnesses and let them loose in the main part of the cart, and I almost started taking shots of whatever they were selling on Aisle 9. Like a troop of wild animals, the wake behind us was resplendent with foodstuffs and ruined displays.

As I was checking out, the Target employee says with great concern, “Uh, ma’am, she’s about to fall out of the cart.” Lane has one of her legs pitched up and over the side and she’s trying to figure out how to shift her weight so she can dismount the cart. Of course, I’m not supposed to have a child (let alone both of my children) standing in the main part of the cart. Very dangerous.

So I grab Lane before there’s an incident, and with both of my children “complaining,” I slide my credit card with my free hand.

The Target employee ends our time together with, “Are they always such a handful?”

I keep Lane in one arm and with the other lamely steer the cart out into the parking lot with Luke at the helm. We hit a bump and my car keys hit the ground while I’m in the crosswalk. I wedge my foot behind the wheel of the cart (so it doesn’t roll away) and bend down and grab the keys as Lane throws her head back thinking it’s all a game. A man in a sedan waits for me to do this whole song and dance.

It was an unglamorous morning.

I often feel like the rest of the world is clipping along in synchronized goodness, and we (me and my handful children) are the clumsy barnacles on the broad side of humanity, dropping keys and spilling coffee and launching out of shopping carts.

Today, some sliver of grace has presented itself out of nowhere, and I can actually just smile and say, “Oh, well.”

For that reason, and that reason alone, today is a total success.

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