I was awake early, showered, dressed and wearing make up. It was my first child’s first day of “children’s day out” and I had looked forward to it for weeks. The morning went just as I had planned…take pictures in his “school” outfit; pack the diaper bag with extras of everything; label all his belongings; charge my cell phone, etc. I had a TO DO list that I could not accomplish in a week, much less in those short hours, but I packed it in my purse and headed out for my day – 5 hours to myself.
My outfit was new and it included the single most expensive pair of pants that I ever owned. They were denim crop pants and I wore them with a taupe linen shirt and chocolate brown sandals. I wasn’t as “cute” as the moms that were 10 years my junior but I held my own. My hair was fixed; my sunglasses matched my purse; and I looked good for my day.
The parking lot was almost full so I pulled into a spot a couple of rows over from the sidewalk and parked on a slant. After unloading the baby “supplies”, I unloaded the baby and started for the door. The next thing I knew, my ankle had buckled beneath me and I had skidded on one knee across the parking lot. I bounced right back up, checked the baby, and quickly looked to see if anyone had seen me. No one had. I gathered myself and headed to the door like nothing had happened.
While signing the register, I realized that my hand was bleeding. I handed the baby to someone and asked if I could wash my hands. I imagine that I wore a nervous smile thinking of the magnitude of motherhood and my responsibility for protecting him. I know that I seemed uneasy. Honestly, it was not the uneasiness of a woman leaving her child with strangers for the first time. Rather, it was self-consciousness mixed with the embarrassment of my own clumsiness. I now felt the blood running down my leg and the pain where I had skinned my knee. I remember that I tried to stand at the door in such a way that my leg was hidden. I did NOT want to explain why my leg was bleeding. I just wanted to get out of there and start my day!
Finally, I made it out! I had made plans to eat lunch with friends, shop and run a couple of errands. My list was long and I didn’t have time to waste. On my way back to the car, I looked down and realized that my pants were torn. On them was a trail of blood starting at my skinned knee and stopping where the leather of my chocolate brown sandals touched the top of my foot. That meant that the first thing on my day to myself would be to return home. Literally, I had to stop the bleeding. Then, I had to build a new outfit that did NOT revolve around the most expensive pair of pants I ever owned. Eventually, I would make it back to my day – now, not quite 5 hours to myself.
As my front two wheels left the threshold of the parking lot, my tears were finally free to flow. I was finally alone for my day – my very own day –and I wept all the way home. This was NOT the day I had planned! I wept for the loss of my child for a few hours each week; and I wept for the loss of my pants. Torn and bloody, they stayed in my closet for a long time after that. I wore them a few times for “work pants”; I even thought of cutting them off for shorts but never could make myself do that. Eventually, I put them in a discard pile and the most expensive pair of pants I ever owned became just a very brief part of that day – my very own day – with just a few minutes left for me.
Copyright, RPL Communications, 2006
