Wednesday, October 03, 2007

Like a bag lady with a baby on the hip.

My mom buys bulk items for me at Costco each week, which means I have to go pick them up from her house, which means a fun visit from Mateo for Grandma. Yesterday Mateo and I had our visit and left with our stuff, which consisted of a package (not from Costco, although I'm sure they sell packages), a big thing of paper towels and two double containers of powder formula (my child has turned into an eating machine). Plus I had my child, a stroller, a diaper bag, the daycare bag, two 12-packs of soda and myself. And my purse. And some baby blankets. And now that I think about it, I think I left his pullover in the car. Oh well.

I had called my husband to tell him that there would be things in the car for him to bring in, and after an awkward conversation, I determined this irritated him. So, me being me, I decided to bring everything in on my own.

Mateo had passed out in the car, so I was hoping I could use his stroller to load everything on it and hold him while using my other hand to steer the stroller into the condo complex. By doing this, I would have to get through a locked gate and locked door before getting to our door.

Of course Mateo woke up when I was getting him out of his car seat, so I now had to hold a wiggly infant while trying to drive a stroller that was resembling a homeless person's stroller of possessions.

I got to the first locked door, which is the gate that goes from the parking lot to the inside of the complex, when I saw this lady walking towards the gate. Never to be one to assume anyone will actually help me, I managed to get the gate open and the stroller into the doorway when the lady ran over while exclaiming I had my hands full. Understatement, but yes, true.

She then proceeded to grab hold of the stroller and pull it through with enough force to cause the wheels to fall into the dirt, off the path. While I stared at the stroller, thinking, how did that help me, you darn stupid condo lady (my husband and I call her that or the crazy condo lady who we desperately try to avoid at all times because she's annoying), she was running at the mouth about some service she runs and how I should do it because then I wouldn't have to do what I was doing today and it would be wonderful and soooo helpful.

But wait. Don't I have my hands full plus a stroller now half in the dirt and half on the path and I have to somehow get it back on the path because you helped me? And you're doing what? Trying to sell me something? That I don't want? Cause all I want to do is get into my condo, put my stuff away and feed my wiggly not to mention very tired baby?

So instead of really listening to her, I worked on getting the stroller back on the path, and when my silence didn't clue her in about what she just did to me and that I wasn't really listening to her at all, I said, "Whhhaattt? What service? What?"

I turned around and looked at her and noticed that since it was now evening, she had caked on the 10 lbs of make-up she puts on her face and was all dolled up for some sexy exercising at the condo gym (her haunt, which is one of the reasons why I haven't decided I should use our condo gym to try to lose my chubs). Usually I see her in the mornings when I'm working at home, and for some reason she doesn't feel it's necessary to put make-up on in the mornings, only at night. Either way, she doesn't look too hot.

"I run a personal health service blah blah blah home," she said. I stopped listening again.

"Oh, no, that's okay," I said.

"You wouldn't have to do this all the time," she said, indicating the stroller and my wiggly child.

So. I barely get to leave the house, so you're suggesting I eliminate one of the few times I have an excuse to get out into the world? Plus limit the times Mateo gets to see his Grandma? What I'd rather have offered to me is a maid service. Or a personal chef. Or a masseuse. Or a cat trainer. And the only reason I was doing what I was doing is because I assumed my husband didn't want to do it, and hey, I'm a woman of the 2000's, I can load up a stroller like no one's ever seen before. I don't need him! Well, okay, I do.

"Oh, that's okay, my mom buys this stuff for me, so it's not really a problem," I said.

"But it would be delivered to you!!! For free!!!!!" she said.

"That's okay. Grandma gets to see him, he gets to see Grandma; if I stopped that, then Grandma would be mad," I said. And yes, I was trying to escape this whole time, it's just hard to do when you're rolling with loaded stroller and wiggly child and are being talked to by pancake make-up sexy exercise lady.

"But it would be delivered to YOU!!!!" she said again. Apparently I'm either dumb, deaf or a hard sell.

"I'm hardly home," I said. Which is not true. And I think she knows that. But oh well. When nothing else works, lie.

"Oh, we can schedule it around when you are home!!!!" she said.

"No, thanks, I'm really okay," I said and finally got momentum with the stroller and began to walk away.

"IF YOU CHANGE YOUR MIND, JUST LET ME KNOW!!!" she yelled at my back.

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