MEMORIES

Picture this. A young family of five shopping for groceries in a busy store. The dad has the newest member of the family, a three week old girl, strapped to his chest via the (once) popular ‘Snugli’. The new mom is pushing the grocery cart that holds a cute-as-a-button 22 month old daughter in the front and a pile of groceries in the back. The oldest child, a 4 ½ year old brown haired, huge eyed son is walking beside the cart asking a new question approximately every 37 seconds.

This is a picture of me and my family on a sunny day in late April, 1985. I had just recovered from an easy birth via cesarean, but an agonizing and dangerous battle with infection after. I came close to losing my life and had spent the past two weeks recovering at my in-law’s house. No one had lived at our house for three weeks and the fridge was empty. We were stocking back up on provisions.

About half way through the store the grocery cart was so full I couldn’t fit as much as a can of beans in it so hubby decided to go fetch another cart, take the full one through the checkout as I continued to shop and, after loading the groceries into the car, return to help me finish up. Sounded like a plan to me.

I continued up and down the isles, piling the necessities of life into the new empty cart - things like baby diapers, toddler diapers, diaper wipes, diaper cream, and – oh yes – food. I was eagerly anticipating being back in my own little house and sleeping in my own big bed. As I turned down the next isle I looked up to see my husband heading back towards me from the front of the store. As he got closer I noticed that the baby, who I was certain was wearing a cute little pink velour sleeper when he left with overflowing cart, was now stark naked. Stark. Naked. It was only then I noticed the look of consternation on daddy’s face.

“The baby. She’s naked.” I stated the obvious as he walked within hearing distance.

“Yeah. No kidding.” Was the curt reply.

“What happened?”

“This.” He lifted her body away from his chest and I had a hard time swallowing the bubble of laughter that welled up my throat as a large greenish yellow stain on the front of his white shirt, from mid chest to waist, was revealed. From the look on his face I knew that laughter would not go over well at this juncture. Gulp.

“Just as I was handing over the cash for the groceries, she let go a huge one and it went EVERYWHERE. I was SO embarrassed. I have spent the last 15 minutes trying to clean it up with McDonald napkins I found in the backseat of the car. Do you have any wipes in that cart yet?” Obviously he didn’t see the humour in the situation at all. Which, frankly, didn’t surprise me much as I seem to have all the sense of humour in this family via my British heritage. Plus for once I wasn't the one wearing baby insides on my outside so I had a whole different perspective.

I dug out the wipes from the bottom of the cart and handed them over. As he was tearing into them I opened the package of baby diapers and held one out.

“Give me your wallet and I will pay for the groceries while you go back to the car with the kids and wait for me there.” I offered.

“Yeah, well there is another problem.” He said as he mopped the front of his shirt. “The groceries are taking up so much space that there isn’t room for everyone so I am going to have to go home and drop them off and come back for you.”

“Fine. Just take the baby then.” I said. “And while your there put some clothes on her.”

“I will.” He snatched the diaper out of my hand.

“And feel free to take the time to change your shirt while you are at it.” I grinned.

“Thanks. You’re all heart.” He called over his shoulder as he headed off.

The cockles of said heart were warmed as I watched him head down the isle. I loved my little family. And I loved it that my husband was wearing baby insides on his outside, for once. And as soon as I knew he was out of earshot, I let the laughter come.