So, I know I’m biased. But I think my kid is pretty cute, subjectively speaking of course.
Sure, she also holds traits akin to the devil. But aesthetically, she’s kind of adorable.
A couple weeks back we had her 2 year check up. My parents came down to watch the twins. And I had a plan in place. We’ve had no special Harper Mommy time since the babies arrival. So I was going to take her to Baskin Robbins after her doctors appointment, get her ice cream and spend time, just us.
I kept telling her I had a surprise for after the doctor. I was probably more excited than she. Let’s be honest. I was going to take a cute picture, we’d both have ice cream cones. She’d be tucked away in her 7am Enfant blanket. Social Media swoon worthy. And, of course, more importantly. We really would get to have quality time together.
We went to the Doc. She was a champ. She didn’t flinch when they pricked her finger. She got her yellow bandaid. Requested a second. The rest of the appointment she let them poke and prod. And as a departing gift, probiotic samples.
We were all very pleased.
On the walk to Baskin Robbins I kept reminding her I had something special planned. I was smiling to myself. Also, very aware of the many people passing us, noticing her. I kept thinking. Hey, maybe I should get her an agent – this kid should model. An unusual amount of people are really taking notice. Could be on to something! I’m not above making money off my kid, in fact, this is brilliant. I even started considering who could help her career take off. NYC rent and daycare ain’t cheap.
I had a couple stops to make along the way. But I could manage. After-all, I have three kids now, I got this.
So I picked up a Keter Bath ring for the babies. The door man asked if everything was ok.
Psht. Yeah dude.
I picked up a surprise Radio Flyer tricycle for Harper’s party the next day. Ok that may have been a bit of a stretch to carry home.
But, com’mon I pushed two babies out of my vagina in ten minutes – superhero status over here, amirite?
Best. Mom. Ever.
We had a couple blocks to go. And so many people were staring at her. How did I never realize before how much attention she got?
My excitement began wearing thin for our continued outing, though. It was cold out. A little rainy. Realized I’d eaten nothing all day. Parents were texting asking where I was. That damn bike and bath ring were heavy. But, ahead lay Baskin Robbins. And a – soon to be very – happy 2 year old.
Eyes on the prize.
I got us in – how are stores in NYC so stroller unfriendly?
Checked out the flavors. Turned her stroller around to tell her what we were doing, couldn’t wait to see her light up with my awesome mom plan.
And. her. face. was. COVERED IN BLOOD. Streaks from corner to corner. More blood than face. It looked like someone was murdered. Obviously at first I was beyond freaking out. OMG. What the hell happened to her?? Then I realized after 30 seconds of “OH SHIT WHAT DO I DO?”
A) she got a finger prick at the doc. Her band aid came off, and I definitely don’t have a back up (turned out I did, but only found that out this morning).
B) those people were not staring at her because she’s the next Giselle (I’m so out of touch I don’t even know who is “in” right now) they were staring because they thought her mother tried to kill her. (Also, why did no one stop me?)
C) it would likely be frowned upon for me to take a picture of this moment. Right?
D) she better not get blood on this expensive AF bunting.
Needless to say our Mommy Harper time was cut short. But not before having a very challenging conversation with the guy behind the register confirming that no, at Baskin Robbins they in fact do not have Carvel ice cream Cake for tomorrow’s party.
I grabbed as many brown paper napkins as I could. Wrapped them around her little finger and explained to her, in no uncertain terms – do not let this touch your blanket (excellent parenting, I know). I wiped her face off as best as I could. Grabbed two chocolate chip cookies – because I had to deliver – and ran as fast as I could (carrying a bath ring and goddamn tricycle).
All in all. That sucked and I think I owe my kid some ice cream – and probably an explanation.
