Andrew loses his shizzle in the car.
Every. Single. Time
As a result, I haven't taken him anywhere except for church for the past several weeks. A two hour drive to West Virginia recently was just too much to bear, so I retreated to the living room couch, where I've made quite an indention in the cushion. I realized yesterday that if I didn't try to venture out again soon, I could become a hermit, and my boo might never get used to the car. Oh, but what a terrible feeling it is to be driving while your wailing infant is in the back, out of reach of comfort.
Today, we ventured to Walmart, amid much screaming, in an attempt to pull the band-aid off.
Once inside the store, he calmed down and enjoyed looking around. I got a little cocky, quickly filling the cart, and even taking the two of us into the grungy family bathroom, so I wouldn't have an accident. Moments later, Andrew started screaming again, and we high-tailed it to the checkout. A friend happened to be in line behind me, so I felt a little more relaxed than if it had been a stranger.
As I pushed my cart to the car in the bright sun, holding Andrew under one arm, a stranger did approach. She quickly offered to help, loading the groceries into the back seat and taking the cart off my hands so I could get the baby cooled down. She could have criticized me for having him out in the heat-- his head was beet red from screaming by this point-- but she didn't. She just lent me a hand. I sat in the car for a while, nursing Andrew and thinking what a crazy journey this is. I mean it has been almost 15 years since I've done the front seat nursing thing! As he cooled down and calmed down, so did I. I changed his diaper and steeled myself for the stressful ride home.
He was a wreck within seconds, so I think I'll stick to the couch a while longer. Andrew seems happy here on my chest, Netflix is queued up to Call the Midwife, and this jumbo bag of Walmart trail mix won't eat itself.