Saturday we were in the grocery store and I had to buy Monistat for the first time in years, because of the bevy of antibiotics I’ve been taking. B has never really even heard of a yeast infection, so this whole thing is terrifying to him. Um, try having it!
We come to the right place and he’s like, OMG, like the whole store is going to know what he is doing. I hissed grow up at him and started looking at the selection. So I am looking at all the options, trying to figure out what I need. I saw that they had one day treatment, but that just seems like the short line at DMV, you know? I settled on the three day stuff, and then I look at the price and see that it is $17.00. I turn around holding it up and say, “SEVENTEEN DOLLARS?!” and the man standing next to me is in fact bearded like B but is most definitely NOT B. He gives me a little, “What do you do?” shrug and I pivot on my heel and storm off to find my turncoat husband, who is FIVE isles down, looking at manly things like firelogs, even though we don’t need any fucking firelogs.
He thinks it’s funny (it wasn’t) and we proceed to the checkout, where he gets in line behind the same bearded guy! I keep saying with a sideways mouth: that’s the guy, abort the mission, ABORT THE MISSION! and B looks at me with the “grow up” look. I get the “grow up” look! UGH.
So that was humiliating.
Later we had B’s dad and step-mom over, and while the boys painted, the ladies went shopping. She was on a mission, people. Shopping with her is what I imagine shopping with Chuck Norris would be like. In a matter of minutes we had two employees following us with a freight cart. A freight cart, people. Crib, mattress, bedding, changing table, high chair, toys, clothes, and wall art. She is yelling and pointing and ordering people around, and holy shit if they aren’t scrambling to do it.
I just kept following her around, gnawing on my fingernails thinking: how much is this going be? Is it bad luck to be this lucky? Oh my God, how do I make her stop? My shingles are going to come back I know it.
She kept telling the people helping us, “Oh that’s just my nervous daughter-in-law, never mind her and load this high chair! ISN’T IT JUST DARLING? HAVE YOU EVER SEEN ANYTHING AS CUTE? Now, listen: is this dishwasher safe?”
It was crazy, and it felt . . . out of control. I go from pure joy to reminding myself to temper the joy, to reminding myself to stop doing that. Everyone keeps saying how hard it will be once the baby gets here, and I am positive that it will be. But this last three years and specifically this last four months, this is hard.
Today we finished the painting and we are washing the new blankets and new clothes and just feeling blessed. We keep just standing in that room, looking around, being amazed that this is happening.
Later we will watch a movie and I will go through the four bags of clothes that The Best Friend brought over. I will make brownies and do laundry, and I will be grateful for every single second of what may seem like an ordinary weekend. Minus the whole Monistat thing, of course.