Every Thursday morning I pack up Susanna and the baby to head downtown for the three year old library class. In order to leave the house by 9:15, I have to start getting ready around 7 in the morning. Not because I curl my hair, shave my legs (nope, not yet!), and try on six different outfits before I leave the house. (Ah, high school memories) But, because I have to force pull my nine year old out of bed, make sure he gets dressed, tell him to take off his dirty play clothes and get dressed again, make sure he brushes his teeth, make breakfast, convince the kids to eat the burnt toast and over cooked eggs, check his tooth brush to see if it's wet, tell him to brush again, feed the baby, hose down the baby, take a shower, give Susanna a bath, lather the girls in lotion, get them dressed, take off the clean clothes to change the baby's diaper, whoops-forgot to make sure Malachi left for school, kick him out the door, comb Susanna's hair before it dries, brush teeth, skip my hair (hat works just fine), bundle up the girls, pack diaper bag, make sure I drink my 12 oz. water (if I don't I feel horrible the whole day, I know, I'm weird), pack over-due library books, grab baby blankets, snatch coins for the train, collect my wallet, phone, journal/pen, book and keys and run out the door to load up the stroller and walk to the train station. Ar! If it was just me I could be out the door in 20 minutes tops.
(and please, anyone who comments saying I should do half of this stuff at night to save time in the mornings, doesn't know my evening schedule.)
OK, back to my story. Last Thursday, at the library Susanna had her class. I won't go into all the little details of what that is like but I will say that I go for her benefit; not mine. This particular Thursday my mom met us at the library. She got there as soon as class was being left out. She watched the girls in the children's area while I searched for some books for myself and paid some over-due fines (whoops).
While exploring the four story library childless, which by the way, is a completely different experience then having crying, curious kids with you, I noticed this guy. This guy was my about my age. Then again, I think everyone is my age ((wait, how old am I again? *gasp*)) I'm staring at him because he had on a white muscle shirt on and a snuggly strapped to him with a drooling baby inside. He looked ridiculous. He noticed me looking at him so he strolled over to me and said "How you doin'." (are you kidding?) I tried to contain my laughter. I smiled and showed him I wasn't interested. This guy continued to try to hit on me with a baby fastened to his torso. I remembered what my husband always said,"If you want Ladies to flock to you go to the mall with a baby." This guy must believe in that saying too. But it doesn't work for this chick. He has no idea how unattractive he is to me with that baby strapped to him. Not to mention his muscle t-shirt.
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