A recent post by one of our favorite bloggers, Mary Teague, the mom behind A Momma Grows in Brooklyn.
Last night, Baby woke up and announced his displeasure with his lingering cold at 10:00 p.m., 10:30 p.m., 1:00 a.m., 3:30 a.m., and 4:00 a.m. In addition, as luck would have it, at 2:30 a.m., I heard the sound of a sad song by Sarah McLachlan blasting from the television of our upstairs neighbor. This morning, I woke up feeling a little worse for wear.
I packed for the day and realized I was going to need to carry three bags with me: (1) a bag for my work-issued laptop, which weighs at least thirty-four pounds; (2) my purse, which necessarily included bottles, pump accessories, a freezer pack, a wallet, and various gadgets; and (3) a bag for Baby, which included bottles, a freezer pack, a blanket, and two back-up outfits because the poor little guy pooped his way through everything he had at Day Care yesterday. As such, I could not imagine carrying all of those bags plus Baby in my carrier. I decided to take the stroller and the bus.
The bus arrived right on schedule, and it lowered to the sidewalk so that Baby, Stroller, and I could hop on. I thanked the bus driver and said good morning as I swiped my Metro Card. The bus driver, a man the size of three men who looked like an enormous bullfrog on a lily pad, responded by telling me to fold my stroller. I pretended that this was not the most ridiculous request I had ever heard, most notably because Baby was in the stroller, and I said that I would work on it when I got a seat.
Did I work on it when I got a seat? No. There were about three other passengers on the bus, and the stroller was not blocking the aisle.
Within about three more stops, I was looking out the window and watching some kids play soccer when I heard someone saying, “Miss? Miss? Miss!” By about the fourth “miss,” I think I realized that The Bullfrog Magistrate of Lily Pad B69 was talking to me. I pretended to be very engrossed in that soccer game, but The Bullfrog Magistrate persisted. So I relented.
“Yes?” I ask from about the sixth row of the bus.
The Bullfrog Magistrate repeated his instructions. I was supposed to fold my stroller. He was clearly upset. He muttered that he had already asked me to fold the stroller.
“Oh…okay. I will see what I can do. Yep. Okay. Oh, I hear ya.”
I made a pile of my three bags on the floor by my feet. I pulled Baby out of stroller and set him on my lap. I managed to fold the stroller – a stroller that requires two hands to fold — while I was holding Baby on a moving vehicle without damaging Baby, the stroller, or any of the other passengers (who number around seven at this point in the trip).
Two lessons here. First, The Bullfrog Magistrate lets the little stuff get to him. Second, I am a badass.
Mary Jacobsen Teague is an attorney by day (and night…and, begrudgingly, by weekend) and writes about the occasional triumphs, many pitfalls, and the hijinx and hilarity of motherhood. She lives in Brooklyn with her husband and son.
