Preg-head is a term I coined (coined?) when with Milo-child. It's the forgetfulness, spaciful "huh?" Oh shit, I just locked myself out of the house -whatdoyamean my tire is flat AGAIN- moments that I have been experiencing. ALOT.
It's an equal mix of totally my fault and WTF LIFE!
It's not fun. It's not
so amazing.
So it's tuesday morning. Or was it wednesday? And I have everything ready to go: kid dressed, me dressed, Milo's lunch and blanket/pillow, purse, door shuuuuut....OH FUuuuuuCK. KEYS! KEYS MOTHER FLIPPIN' KEYS...!!!!!
Milo and I go to the back door. Of course it's locked. Of course all the windows are locked closed. I wonder how much a new window will cost. My life is suddenly at a standstill. But I have a cell phone! I call friend #1. But she's not answering. Of course not, she's busy. She's in her minivan singing Barney songs with her laughing/smiling almost 3 year old happy-child while he sips on cucumber water. She has it all together. And she does it with finesse and kindness. She would never lock herself out of her house. And if she did, she's got 3 back up plans.
I call another friend. The one who JUST had a baby. Like a week ago. She'd LOVE to drop everything after a night full of nursing, spit up and meconium diapers.
But she answers! I ramble about all my issues and -like a good friend- offers up her husband and her tea and sympathy condolences for being on my own -and pregnant- and flooding with progesterone making me an even more spacey and floppy person than usual....and then I remember...
the credit card trick!
With Milo jumping in puddles in the middle of street and my phone nudged between my shoulder and ear, I successfully OPEN THE DOOR with a mere slide of the card.
BEAUTIFUL! YES!
I thank my friend for "being there" and I hang up. Now. Where are those keys?!
I'm flipping couches, I'm digging in drawars, I double check pockets. This is ridiculous. I think back to last night. And then I remember.
Last night,
as in 12 hours ago, I left the keys -on top of the car- outside. In the rain. In public. Where anyone could say, "Hey! Keys! Let's go pay Lynsey a little visit at 2 in the morning! Or better yet...TAKE THE CAR FOR A LITTLE JOY RIDE!"
I dash outside. My keys are sitting there all shiny and wet. On top of the car. But not only my keys, but my husband's set of keys.
I had let Milo play in the cars while I mowed the lawn.
Mowing the lawn is also "not fun" and not "so amazing" when 6 months pregnant.
What next? WHAT NEXT??!
