Shaken Mommy Syndrome

We went to Babies R Us the other day to get some new shoes for Jordan (I had gone the day before as well, but I accidentally got the wrong size). I normally keep him in the cart, but he has recently decided that he will not ride in the cart. He will climb out and if it means he falls out on the way down, he doesn't really care. Emma was in the front pack and Jordan and I were holding hands, selecting a new pair of shoes, when he freed his sweaty little hand from my grasp and took off through the store. More specifically, through the clothing section of the store, where he is short enough to dash quickly under the clothes and wind through the maze of fabric with the speed and stealth of a cheetah. I, on the other hand, was smashing ungracefully through the racks that were so closely spaced that I had to push the clothes out of the way, searching desperately for my little escapee. I’ve never had to run with a baby in the front pack before. By the time I got to the checkout counter, I was dripping sweat. My hair looked like I hadn’t brushed it in a week, Emma was crying from being bounced around, Jordan was screaming and trying to wriggle out of my football hold, the contents of my purse were falling out, and I had lost our cart. But I had the box of shoes in hand. And we still had to go to Borders.