Hey Ma

By: Allison Norris

Baylor can see. He sees colors and shapes and people… and can no longer be entertained by the freckles above my cleavage. I used to be able to toss him into my front carrier apparatus to hit Nordstrom or the grocery store, but satisfied he is no longer. He wants to check out the action happening all around him.

Grocery shopping has become somewhat of a task. I can’t really bring a stroller into the store because I need to push the cart. Bay hates sitting in his car seat attached to the cart and will scream the entire time – quickly ending our shopping experience. I did this once and made it half way down the first aisle before turning around and leaving the store. I started leaving him with my sister or trying to shop a little while he is with his dad, but I decided that I had to look that temper tantrum square in the face and say, bring it.

I unloaded him from the car and placed him in my Ergo carrier (similar to the baby bjorn) and grabbed a cart. He seemed to be happy and we carelessly cruised the meat section until… oh no… a screech of a sound coming from my neckline. Here it comes… the meltdown.

He arched his back and wailed like someone was sending jolts of pain up through his toes. His crinkled forehead and curled lip revealed his toothless gums, are surrounded by his clenched fists next to his face. He let out a scream followed by a snort and I knew our ergo time had officially ended.

I stopped in the middle of the aisle and managed to unclip myself to get him out of the carrier to bring him to my hip, and he was cured. Each aisle provided an incredible world of shapes and colors that kept him mesmerized as he gripped onto the shoulder of my shirt. I finished my shopping holding my drama king in one hand, while pushing my cart and reaching for items with the other. I can’t believe my biceps aren’t bursting out of my sweaters.

Finally to the counter after what seemed like a journey through a supermarket jungle, the checker grabbed my cart and started scanning my items.

“Cuuuuuute lil guy you have there.”

“Oh, thaaaanks!”

“How old is he?”

“3 months…” now shut up and bag my groceries, I thought.

“3 months!? I remember when my boys were that little. Here, I HAVE to show you a photo of them!”

Great. Now I have to stand here with a dead arm even longer to look at photos of a guy’s children who I don’t even know.

“Oh, they are just cute.”

“Thanks, MA!”

Ma?

“Do you need help out today, ma?”

Why is he calling me “ma”? I’m not his ma.

“Uhh… sure, I guess that would be great.”

“No problem, ma.”

Should I say something about him calling me “ma” because it’s really freaking me out.

“I’m just the silver car over here, but put the groceries in the back seat because I have a million strollers in my trunk…”

“Don’t you worry about a thing, ma, I’m a pro at this stuff. I’ve got your purse and I am putting it in the front seat so you don’t lose it, ma.”

IS HE KIDDING RIGHT NOW?!

“Ok. Great. Thank you.” I got in my car and drove home. Apparently I was everyone’s “ma” that day. Weird.