Beer and Babies, AGAIN!

John and I had agreed to each take one child for the afternoon while we attempted to accomplish something. He and Shelby stayed home to tape off some painting work while Ana and I headed to the hardware store and then to buy groceries. There's something to be said about appreciating the little things in life. Like silence in my car on a sunny day. Having a few extra minutes to peruse the nursery because my toddler isn't there to throw rocks in the fountains and pick the flowers off the display plants. Pushing a regular cart at the grocery store instead of that ginormous plastic firetruck cart Shelby insists on "driving" through the store. Have you seen those things? You need a Class F License and Popeye Forearms to steer that thing! Ugh. I arrived home relaxed, happy, and ready to face the rest of my afternoon. I pulled the baby in her infant carseat out and then slid the eighteen plastic bags onto my wrist. Why do they do that, by the way? It's no secret plastic bags are harmful to the environment. Why can't these baggers condense? Is it a crime? I really don't care that my bar soap is mixed in with my canned goods. Like my refried beans are really going to take on a hint of Shower Fresh! Anyway, as I was saying, I slid the eighteen bags onto my wrist and grabbed the 12pack of beer with my last two free fingers. Making my way towards the front door I took a mental picture of myself: Hunched under the weight of my child in her awkward handled seat on one side, the mound of plastic bags swaying against my opposite knee, a twelve pack, once again, precariously hung from my curled fingers. And so, I said aloud, "Oh yeah, I AM SUPERWOMAN." No sooner was the last word uttered from my lips than the carseat caught an edge of the house, causing my left side to jerk backward, while my right wildly circled around, piles of plastic bags swinging dangerously close to my head and then I felt the box rip, slip, and crash to the concrete. DAMN! Broken glass, foaming beer and torn cardboard. Just my luck. Once again, beer and babies do not mix. When will I learn?!

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