So I had to go to Target today despite the "rules" of enclosed locations. You see, I have 1 breastpad left. As in One. Uno. Last time I checked I had two boobs. Where did the other breastpad go? Or are breastpad boxes like hot dog buns?! I digress...
This meant the piggy had to come with me. (I call her this and other rude names because she eats like one and is now pushing 10 pounds.) Before we even get in the door, she has a complete meltdown and is rooting around for something to eat. I was forced to sit on the ledge outside and feed her. I might as well just stop shaving my legs - this is getting out of control.
After that escapade, (from which I emerged with a big wet spot on my shirt because she was so intrigued by everything else besides the task at hand), we entered the store. Immediately, she made her serious, "I am pooping a poop beyond all poops imaginable" face. It is a very serious face, with pursed lips and a furrowed brow. Her skin also turns the color of red that I imagine you would paint your face if you were dressing up like the Devil for Halloween. I pretend I don't see this happening and head to the back of the store for the hotdog bun breastpads. This is when the fussing begins. I scramble for the pacifier. She is not having it. She starts punching the air like a little Mike Tyson, (this isn't too far off because she would for sure bite my ears off if she had teeth...), and the fussing gets louder and louder.
I, of course, cannot leave without the breastpads because these things leak at the drop of a hat. (Whose boobs are these anyway!?) Hoping to soothe her, I take her out of her stroller to carry her and put my hand right into a big, wet mess. She has blown out the side of her diaper. OF COURSE SHE HAS! Let me recap, I have just breastfed outside of a Target, am walking around with a big wet stain on my shirt, my child is crying and my hand is covered in her poop. Long gone are the days of cashmere sweaters and Happy Hour at Chat Noir.
As I turn the corner of the aisle with the breastpads, I notice that there is an almost empty end cap. These are the displays that are at the end of an aisle normally used to showcase a sale product. Yeah, I did it...I changed my daughter's diaper on an end cap in Target. But, I like to think of it as a "product demonstration" for Pampers.
In the end, I got my breastpads and by the time we walked back to the car, wouldn't you know it, she was sleeping like a perfect angel.
This makes it all worth while...
This meant the piggy had to come with me. (I call her this and other rude names because she eats like one and is now pushing 10 pounds.) Before we even get in the door, she has a complete meltdown and is rooting around for something to eat. I was forced to sit on the ledge outside and feed her. I might as well just stop shaving my legs - this is getting out of control.
After that escapade, (from which I emerged with a big wet spot on my shirt because she was so intrigued by everything else besides the task at hand), we entered the store. Immediately, she made her serious, "I am pooping a poop beyond all poops imaginable" face. It is a very serious face, with pursed lips and a furrowed brow. Her skin also turns the color of red that I imagine you would paint your face if you were dressing up like the Devil for Halloween. I pretend I don't see this happening and head to the back of the store for the hotdog bun breastpads. This is when the fussing begins. I scramble for the pacifier. She is not having it. She starts punching the air like a little Mike Tyson, (this isn't too far off because she would for sure bite my ears off if she had teeth...), and the fussing gets louder and louder.
I, of course, cannot leave without the breastpads because these things leak at the drop of a hat. (Whose boobs are these anyway!?) Hoping to soothe her, I take her out of her stroller to carry her and put my hand right into a big, wet mess. She has blown out the side of her diaper. OF COURSE SHE HAS! Let me recap, I have just breastfed outside of a Target, am walking around with a big wet stain on my shirt, my child is crying and my hand is covered in her poop. Long gone are the days of cashmere sweaters and Happy Hour at Chat Noir.
As I turn the corner of the aisle with the breastpads, I notice that there is an almost empty end cap. These are the displays that are at the end of an aisle normally used to showcase a sale product. Yeah, I did it...I changed my daughter's diaper on an end cap in Target. But, I like to think of it as a "product demonstration" for Pampers.
In the end, I got my breastpads and by the time we walked back to the car, wouldn't you know it, she was sleeping like a perfect angel.
This makes it all worth while...
1 comment:
Best story yet! Better Target then some shady Walmart.
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