Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Escalator Face Plant

If the word "personally productive" was used to describe my morning so far, it would be an understatement. I have managed to sleep in ( until 7am), wrangle a toddler into dressing, eating and going to the gym with me. My only concession- she got to wear ski-boots all day, everywhere. We then ran three errands, and drove to the mall. (ugh).

Once at the mall, I could feel my skin begin to tighten and slowly crawl back toward the entrance. We walked past the piano playing in the department store. The sounds of Christmas music serenading all the sleeping 73 yr old patrons hunched in chairs with smokey grey coats, furry hoods, and ortho-shoes on. (I'm sorry. Its an accurate description, and you know it!)My child actually pointed and said : "Look, mommy, he's sleeping" It was a woman. C'est la vie. I have to shop. No apologies.

We stopped by the school band playing "Drummer boy" and "Frosty the Snowman" on the upper level, right next to the coffee cart. Her attention stayed as long as my tolerance for children (who are not mine) poorly playing anything-let alone Christmas music. I quickly darted her into yet another over-priced children's boutique to look for holiday dresses. At this point, I am carrying the following things:

-her coat
-my coat
-my diaper bag/purse (gross)
-her new socks
-her new shoes

Ladies and Gentleman- I am officially a middle America suburban cliche.

We leave ( with a dress) as quickly as we came. I am in full forced get-me-out-of-here-speed as we approach the escalator. I am trying to watch the mound of bags to ensure nothing falls over, or gets stuck in the "moving parts" that I didn't notice my sweet little girl's face looking up at the two-story tree, not to the sliding hand rail divider.

"BUMMMMMMMMFF!" Her nose smashes into the synthetic, germ ridden black acyclic railing. It keeps moving, taking her poor smooched face with it. Our hands unlock because I am still moving forward and up. I let go of the bags, jump down in the opposite direction and swoop up my child (and all her shock from the pain) in less than a second. The silent, breath-holding stare is always a preeminent warning of what is to come. And it does. She belts her best visceral yelp for all the mall to hear.

While calming her, and trying not to laugh at my mind's replay of the event, I look over her shoulder at the bags hanging and falling down the escalator. People are annoyed. I don't care. Poor thing. I realize in that moment, I am pret-ty hard to keep up with. For anyone, let alone a mini-person just trying to see a Christmas tree. In that moment, I wished I could be the one that got the face plant. Not her. She was just along for the ride. What choice does she have?

I do.... Have a choice: to SLOW DOWN this holiday season. Jimanee(sp?) Christmas! I will.

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