WAY BACK WHEN

Remember what it was like leaving the house without a baby in tow? Like running out the door for trivial things such as checking out the spring nail polish shades at Target or you wanted to meet a friend for coffee or a drink and conversation. You merely slipped on shoes, grabbed your car key in one hand, trendy clutch in the other, walked out to your two-door car and left.

That was when it was all about you and only about you.

Then you had a baby. And God laughed.

Because you can kiss that fancy-free routine goodbye for the next few presidential administrations.

NOW

Don’t get me wrong – my son is the best thing that ever happened to me. I’ve unconditionally loved him since that little pink line showed up in the pregnancy test window. That said, doing anything with a baby in tow is like training for a tough mudder. And it takes a lot of time to master. Because now your life revolves around feeding and sleeping schedules. A checklist that rivals FAA standards. Core and upper body strength that puts pilates routines to shame. Suffice it to say, anything that needs to be done outside the home requires precise timing, expert execution, a lot of patience and preferably a sherpa. Allow me to break it down.

THE EXIT

Once you’ve determined a strategic window to make your escape, you have to prepare. Accessing the launch codes for a silo in Wyoming takes less effort. You need to create a well-prepared diaper bag that solves for all catastrophic possibilities. Wipes, diapers, burping cloths, ointment, cream, powder, changing pad, change of clothes, toys, milk, water, snacks, medicines, snakebite kit. Well, you know what I mean. It’s comprehensive.

Then there’s the baby equipment. Umbrella stroller for short trips or full-on ATV stroller for recreational trips. You know, the one that has carabiners and head gear with a built-in flashlight. The one that after contorting into a sleek design, it still commandeers your remaining car storage space. You’ll be driving home with grocery sacks in yours and the baby’s laps.

THE TRANSPORT

Your two-door coupe is long gone. And you can’t remember what it’s like to open a car door, get in, start the car, put it in drive and leave. Now if you don’t open and shut 3 doors, one of those doors at least twice, you’ve likely forgotten something. It’s like the chicken dance brought to you by Chrysler. Also you now have a SUV or mini-van to accommodate additional passengers, much needed additional storage and a car seat. This is what car seats look like today.

Since you’re traveling in a death trap, you’ll need to strap the kid into the car seat six ways to Sunday. Here’s the good news – the childless firefighter in your local community will do a better job installing the car seat than you who loaded up on folic acid & prenatal vitamins for 6 months and read every mommy-to-be book in preparation of being a good mother. When he’s done, your kid will be belted into the seat like an astronaut ready for launch.

More good news. Child seats now have expiration dates and should never be reused. And they come in stages — infant carrier, rear-facing child seat, front-facing child seat, booster seat. All with NHTSA approval ratings. Let me show you what was used for my generation.

Essentially we just wanted to sit up higher to look out the window. It’s a small wonder kids managed to survive a car ride without a 5-point harness. Of course during that time, automobiles were bigger, heavier, made of steel and not easily-crushable fiberglass. In addition, when we were grade school age, we used to ride in the back of pickup trucks and station wagons – untethered (gasp).

THE RIDE

Before baby, you could listen to any music at any decibel you desired. It turns out loud music is hard on little baby ears. Also lyrics may be inappropriate for those little ears as they begin to understand content. I tried to justify Gwen Stefani’s Hollaback Girl because my son was learning to spell bananas. What would it hurt if he had to hear “this $hit is bananas” prior to the spelling lesson (B-A-N-A-N-A-S)? Probably a lot so I erred on the side of caution, trading Kid Rock for Kid Bop Disney Radio. And worse, I learned the words and even grooved a little while singing.

THE TRANSITION

Once you’ve arrived at your intended destination, it’s time for the transition from car seat to shopping cart. Here’s where it gets tricky. You may have to struggle with the baby or infant carrier, diaper bag & purse from the car all the way to the entrance of the store. And you’re screwed if shopping carts are located inside the store and you have to maneuver through a non-automatic door.

But once you reach the beloved shopping cart, you can now blissfully rest your burning forearms and shoulders by dropping the baby carrier or baby into the cart. Sweet relief. If the baby is able to sit in the cart and you’re a germaphobe, you’ll need to wipe down the cart with sanitizing wipes and then attach a cart-fitted protective cover.

Keep in mind, you haven’t even started your list but the clock is still ticking. You have a time bomb in your cart due to go off when the conditions are right. Errands be damned.

THE SHOPPING EXPERIENCE

So after strategically maneuvering the cart out of the view of bright shiny things that will likely bring on a fit of tears if spotted, you manage to fulfill your shopping list. It’s at the checkout, that you solemnly stare at the items on the conveyor belt and realize nothing is for you. It’s all baby items. What happened to the self-indulgent shopping days of yore? Gone with your waistline and frivolous time. I’d get a second rush with all my great beauty finds, clothes, impulse buys laid out before me ready for purchase. No more. That’s also a distant memory. Post baby – all baby things. Still fun but very sobering.

TRANSITION AGAIN

Once shopping and purchase is completed, you have to transition in reverse from the cart to the car. Secure the kid first then the shopping items and pray no one decides to settle your hash because you didn’t return your cart to the corral. Eventually I learned to park near the corral but that’s not always an option.

RE-ENTRY

While approaching the house, the time bomb is likely ticking louder or has gone off completely. You’re putting such a hustle on everything you do. Land the car somewhere near the house. Your own garage is preferable but the neighbor’s front yard works too.

Throw the sliding van door open. Retrieve crying/hungry/fussy baby from the jaws of death. Head inside to soothe baby and then secure for 90 seconds to retrieve shopping items at an Olympian performance level. You’re familiar with the look – shopping bags slung over both shoulders, purse and diaper bag around neck, invariably something is hanging from your mouth, as you take little steps to avoid your cargo from swinging or falling, all while side stepping small, sharp toys on the floor to make the challenge that much more fun.

And shortly after you arrive home, I guarantee you remember something you meant to pick up but forgot.

IN CONCLUSION

Becoming a mother is life-changing in the best way but it’s definitely challenging too. I’m highly organized, able to prioritize and can manage curveballs like no one’s business but I must admit, when I brought my infant son home from the hospital, I had entered the octagon. I quickly realized that leaving the house would be nothing short of an odyssey and likely fraught with mishaps. So I accepted that running errands with a baby was going to be exponentially longer, less fruitful and my new normal.

I went from a fun, stylish, well-groomed, articulate woman to a frantic, “cleanish”, haggard-looking, ponytail-wearing refugee humming the Sesame Street theme overnight. And that was with a routine. So when they say “it takes a village to raise a child”, they know what they’re talking about.

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