Maybe Sweat is Better

So, as you may recall, I had big plans for going to the mall yesterday when the heat became unbearable in the house. So after Ella's 1 p.m. nap I fed her and loaded her in the car seat for our excursion. We were enjoying the air conditioning on full blast all the way to the mall. When we arrived she seemed happy and I was looking forward to a nice stroll. But when I removed all the straps and snaps I got a whiff of something odious and familiar. Yep, poop. So I opened up the hatch of the Escape and proceeded to change the smelly little present. Passers by got quite a treat because this was, "hey mom, I'm teething" poop. If you don't have children you won't understand. If you do you're probably giving me an audible, "oh no" right now. Anywho, with a fresh diaper and now strapped into the umbrella stroller, we were on our way. I was on a bit of a mission because as we near the end of the month it's time to buy next month's greeting cards. But our main priority was just to be cool.

We got through one department store with no problems -- and then it happened. Ella started screaming at the top of her lungs. I had given her Tylenol before we left hoping to avoid any major teething pain for the next few hours. I tried to talk to her but she just kept howling. I got out into the open mall where there is more noice but also, as I soon found out, more echo. So three tiers of mall shoppers starting craning their necks to locate the woman who was obviously brutalizing her child. All they found was me. Looking like you'd sucked the life out of me I glared back at anyone who even started to give that, "what's wrong with your kid?" look. I did the only thing I could do. I got her out of the stroller and carried her along with the diaper bag and pushed the stroller. She calmed down enough for me to buy those dang cards, which now seemed like a real priority. When we got to the checkout Ella started bellowing again. I again picked her up. The lady at the register was sweet and talked to her and reminded her, seeing the frustration on my face and the patience in my touch and voice, that she has a good mommy. I wish for every time a mommy is in a trying situation with a child someone would say those words. "you're a good mommy." It made all the difference in how I felt and how I handled the situation.

Ella fell asleep in the car and woke up a short time after we returned home in a pleasant and happy mood. I don't know what got into her. Maybe she just likes to sweat.