I was frantically trying to run a few errands before I had to get my child from preschool. How much could I check off my list before I had to make the mad dash back to school and not be the last mommy to pick up?
To add to the chaos, I wasn’t alone on my errands. I had my squirmy toddler in the grocery cart and “a bun in the oven.” At eight months pregnant, uncomfortable and harried doesn’t even begin to convey how I was feeling that day. But it was going to get worse.
I waddled up and down the aisles of the grocery store trying to wrestle the afore-mentioned toddler back into his seat. He definitely DID NOT want to cooperate. And who could blame him? I was thoroughly distracted, throwing this item and that into the cart, trying to bribe him with animal crackers, and moving as fast as I could. Not a fun time for mommy or child.
And my stupid purse! It kept falling off my arm, so I threw it into the cart seat next to my toddler, who promptly threw it onto the floor. I suppose I could have worn a fanny pack to keep my arms free, but I don’t believe they come in quite the girth I needed at eight months pregnant. And those stylish small bags with the long straps were impractical for a mom of three kids – where would I stash the juice box and gummy bears? Besides, if I had had one, it probably would have strangled me with all my bending, rushing, and twisting.
So what was I supposed to do? I needed my hands free to grab groceries and keep my toddler from lurching out of the cart. So I decided to bury it. The purse. Beneath the growing mound of groceries in my cart.
I pawed my way past Eggo Waffles and Lucky Charms to the bottom of my cart and planted my purse there. Then I covered it over with piles of groceries and set my toddler as guard. Who was going to brave that?
We continued to race through the store, preschool pick-up time fast approaching. But my toddler only got more squirmy. In a moment of madness I took him out of the cart.
Which was when he bolted around the corner. And of course I chased him. Three minutes later, I cornered him and strapped him back in the cart.
Onto the checkout. Item after item, right down to the bottom of the cart.

“How would you like to pay today – credit or cash?” How about neither, because my purse with both my credit cards and my cash were gone!
In the three minutes I had been chasing my toddler, someone walked up to my cart, plunged his or her hand through the pile of items and snagged my purse.
You know how you feel when you realize that the bad thing that just happened is your own dumb fault? And you have to leave your groceries behind to race to preschool? And everyone at the store feels sorry for the crazy pregnant lady? It’s enough to make you want to spit!
And the moral of this story? I have no idea. Some days just go like that.
You do the best that you can with what you’ve got. Sometimes it turns out fine. Sometimes your purse gets stolen. Sometimes they recover it. Sometimes they don’t. Stuff happens. All we can do is put one foot in front of the other, make the best choices we can, and live with what happens.
And if it doesn’t end well?
Go home and have a cup of tea or a glass of wine, throw yourself into bed at the end of the night, and hope tomorrow is better. Which it usually is… because you can’t have your purse stolen two days in a row, can you?!?