The brownie points on my mommy skills just got knocked down a few hundred notches.
I could blame it on Meredith. We’re pretty sure she did it, albeit accidently. The casual staring at the floor while wringing her hands at chest-level is pretty much her dead giveaway.
But still. I’m the mommy here. I take responsibility.
It began with good intentions. A healthy walk around the neighborhood (healthy = about two miles – I know right?!) with toddler, baby in stroller and two dogs on leashes. Yes, we were outnumbered, but we’d done it before with no problems to speak of. This was the first time taking Luie, however, so I wanted to be sure he and all of his 110+ pounds of massive cementdom were secured with no availability to slip the collar and cavort with the juvenile gangbangers and slutty bitches (really! bitches!) that troll our neighborhood, overturning garbage cans and making Whoopee in the street.
I strapped Madelynn into the Cadillac of strollers (Hello, Graco!) and positioned her at the starting line (open garage door), strategically placed Meredith beside her, on foot, and secured the brake. Then I turned to tighten Luie’s collar. About two seconds minutes later (that stoopid adjuster ring would. not. budge.) Chris appears with GiGi, ready to go, and says, “Where’s the baby?!”
“What do you mean where’s the baby? She’s right th…….”
Dood. She wasn’t.
SpazzDaddy unearthed himself and as I turned the front hedge, I realized it was with good reason.
My baby was upside down.
In the ditch.
Seriously, like you can totally mail me my sentence to Hell and some rotten cheese now, if you want to. I’ll be over in the corner saying 250 Hail Mary’s and 1000 Our Father’s. And I’m Presbyterian.
The boys who ride their bikes were wizzing toward our house, yelling to get our attention because they watched her roll away while my back was turned. I can imagine what they think of me now. If they never wave at me when I drive by again, I won’t blame them. Hot MILF (humor me) just turned into THAT MOM that lives down the street.
Miraculously, she didn’t have a scratch on her. The two ends of the stroller had straddled the ditch so she just hung freely in the space between, looking quite confused and all “WTF is this?” She didn’t cry until I cried. She stopped way before I did, though.
When Chris asked Mere if she pushed Sissy down the hill, he got a low, barely audible “Mmhmm”.
She didn’t know. I can’t give her the fault in this. I should’ve been paying better attention. I should’ve kept the baby in the garage, on level ground, until we were all ready. I should’ve padlocked that sucker the the back bumper of the car.