Don't Cry Over Spilled Milk

In our China life, there is no such thing as a "quick" errand.  Inevitably, something happens that causes your projected time spent on said errand to grow exponentially.  Case in point, my trip to the market a year or so ago.  

Well, we've gotten pretty spoiled here in America where the fictitious quick errand actually exists.  So we figured it wouldn't be such a big deal to swing by the grocery store with all three kids in tow on the way home from our tasty BBQ dinner to pick up some milk.  (I'm terribly obsessed with milk here, by the way.  Milk that doesn't require refrigeration and comes in a juice box is...well, as my dad puts it, a bit grim.) 

Knowing I would just be a second, Kevin dropped me off so we wouldn't have to bring our circus of a family inside.  Knowing I would just be a second, I passed over getting a cart (Fatal Error #1).  Two gallons of milk, 6 bananas, and 5 pears later, I was in the self check-out line.  The funny thing about not being pregnant anymore is that no one gives you special treatment like before.  Had I been hugely pregnant and standing in line with two gallons of milk, 6 bananas, and 5 pears, some kind patron would have probably let me cut.  But now that my baby bump joined the outside world, I'm just a dumb lady who should have gotten a cart.

As you might know, two gallons of milk can be a little heavy, so I set one down (Fatal Error #2).  Moments later, there was a gallon of milk that had taken a fatal leap and was gushing its dairy goodness all over my feet.  Could have been my gallon of milk.  Yup, most definitely was.  

It really wasn't that great of a crisis.  They called someone to clean it up and even sent a guy to retrieve me another jug of milk.  But the great triumph was the realization I had as I was leaving the store: All of that just happened and I didn't even cry!  I didn't even have the urge to cry.  So maybe there is hope for this hormonal new mom after all!