Roulette

As far as I can figure, grocery shopping with an 11 week old is akin to playing roulette.  I've never actually played the game, but it's safe to say it's based on luck and so are your chances of making it out of the grocery store without your child having a breakdown.  You pick a color, red or black, you pick a number and you place your bets.  Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose it all.  Yesterday, while at the grocery store with Charlie, I went all in, and lost my fortune and my mind.
The errand started out well and I had high hopes.  He was awake in his car seat, but in good spirits.  He had his lovie in tow as well as his pacifier.  What could go wrong?!
As we approached the checkout line, Charlie began to fuss.  I started to sweat.  Don't do this to me.  We are almost out the door.  Within seconds that fuss turned into a whimper, and that whimper turned into a full fledge breakdown.  He face turned a nice shade of red and he screamed bloody murder, apparently trying to communicate to the cashier that I was in fact torturing him.  There was nothing I could do to calm him down except take him out of his car seat, which wasn't an option since we were about to get back in the car.  No pacifier was comforting enough to tame this tantrum.  I fumbled for my wallet and did my best to act like I was in control of the situation.  Let's be honest, Charlie held the reigns here.  The cashier handed me my receipt and I all but bolted out of the store.  With Charlie still straining his vocal chords, I got him into the car and went back to the cart for the groceries.  With three bags in my hands I turned to the car only to have one of the bags rip sending my cans of tomatoes and beans flying all over the parking lot.  Fail.  I scurried like a squirrel gathering nuts for winter, grabbing cans as they began to roll underneath nearby parked cars.  Meanwhile, Charlie continued to voice his distaste for trips to the grocery store.  I finally collected all of my groceries and placed them in the car.  I went to comfort Charlie, hoping that my 47th offering of the pacifier would be the golden ticket, when I heard what could only be the butt of my jeans ripping in half.  Yep, that sounds about right.  With my forehead slick with sweat, my son on the verge of transforming into the Hulk, and the butt of my pants swinging in the breeze, I took a deep breathe and climbed into the driver's seat.  I said a little prayer, thankful that the grocery store was less than two minutes from the house and looked forward to the glass of wine that waited for me when I got home.  I see now why casinos offer free drinks.  When you gamble and lose, at least you get a free drink out of the whole thing.

Lucky for me, those crazy grocery trips are few and far between.  Most of the time, life looks more like this.  I can't get enough of that smile!

Getting to know that baby in the mirror.  He loves looking at himself!

Fall has arrived in Colorado.  Monkey looks nice and cozy and ready for a nap.  He's also giving me that look that says, "Don't you dare take me back to the grocery store. Ever."