Baby Mama Gets Noticed

Another out of sequence post, but I’m trying to get caught up so I can daily blog instead of writing novel-length stories.

The previous night (that would be Wednesday night–the night we came home from Arkansas), I had finally gotten Carson to bed after endless rocking and soothing. The poor guy had spent most of his day in a car seat, so I couldn’t blame him. He had a rough rest of the night as well; he gets travelers’ constipation. Bless his heart, he struggled and strained every few hours to push out a poop, unsuccessfully. At his five am feeding, I finally brought him to bed with me so I could hold him in a comfortable position (flat on his back is the worst when he’s like this). We both fell asleep, and it was turning out to be a blissful day. I was going to sleep until eight and then get started on the housework. My phone rang at 7:23. Ryan had grabbed a pair of stained ACU pants, and he had brigade formation at 0800. So he needed me to bring him a clean pair of pants. I laid there for a second longer after I had hung up the phone, not wanting to disturb a finally peaceful Carson. But, if I was going to get the pants to him in time, I had to hurry. So, I left Carson in our bed, threw a t-shirt over my breastmilk stained tank top, grabbed a clean pair of pants, and began to load Carson into his car seat. Of course he immediately began crying. I wanted to cry, too, but I buckled him in and headed out the door. If you’ll note, I said I threw a t-shirt over my tank. I didn’t say anything about a bra. I immediately regretted this decision when I saw the half dozen construction workers standing around across the street, waiting to begin work. I couldn’t understand what they were saying, since it was in a certain south-of-the-border language, but since it got pretty animated when they looked up and saw me, I’m pretty sure I can gather the gist of the conversation. At least my milk hadn’t let down, leaving me with two big wet circles on my chest (the way it did as soon as I got home). I drove like an overly cautious madwoman to gate 7. (That’s the only way I can explain it–I sped, but not excessively, and I carefully weaved in and out of traffic; I was in a hurry, but I still had a baby in the backseat!) For the first time, I left my ID depicting my rank in my wallet and instead pulled out my dependent ID. I was not about to let someone see me as an officer in this disheveled state. I pulled into the shopette the same time Ryan got there. The first words out of my mouth were, “I’d better get a really nice mother’s day gift this year.” Then I asked him if he was going to have enough time to get back and change. He replied, “they moved formation back.” I said, “I’d better get a really, really nice mother’s day gift this year. Do you know what I just went through to get these pants to you?” Sigh. We decided the best course of action would be to purchase a formation set of ACU’s and leave them in his office. Just another day at the Due household…

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