Yesterday I did a scary thing. I cashed in the savings bonds I've had since I was a baby. I did this because I needed to pay rent and will not get a paycheck again until July 1. That would be scary enough as is, since I've ALWAYS had those bonds to fall back on, and now I have nothing to fall back on, but what made the whole process even scarier was that I had to do it while in charge of Baby. Since Husband is now the sole breadwinner, I am at home, by myself, with Baby. For the first few weeks, I allowed this fact to keep me from doing errands such as going to the grocery store or chores like teeth brushing. The end of the month, however, forced me to temporarily stop being a shut in and go to a place of business completely on my own, with Baby in tow. Since 5 week old babies pretty much just sleep, I figured that I could accomplish this task. I am 26 years old. I have a master's degree. I can go to the bank with a baby. I even figured that since he spent the weekend not sleeping and then spent the whole morning not sleeping, he was due for a nice, long, coma-like sleep that would last me through the bank, then through Target, and he'd wake up as soon as we got to Aunt Jen's house, only he'd wake up smiling and cooing, and everyone would agree that I have the greatest, cutest, sweetest baby in the world.
So yeah. I drove to the bank, deciding to go to the branch that is closest to Target to give Baby a little more time to settle into his sleep. I even drove into the next county, just in case he needed a little extra time. Apparently that was a mistake. I got to the bank, walked up to the counter, handed the teller my wad of savings bonds, my drivers license, and my marriage certificate, explained what I wanted to do, and got down to business. She instructed me to have a seat, sign the back of every single bond and print my name above each signature. She even lent me a pen. I sat down; Baby woke up. He didn't wake up cooing and making baby noises as he'd done for the first 4 1/2 weeks of his life. He woke up wailing at a tone and volume that would shame a banshee. I looked at him and said, "You're fucking kidding me." He continued to cry. I picked up the carseat, the baby, and my stack of bonds and took him to the car. I sat in the front seat and threw on my Hooter Hider. I didn't care if he was crying because he had a stomach ache, dirty diaper, was bored, was saddened by the course of the war, etc. I had a task I needed to complete, and I felt that feeding him was my only option.
I'm not good at multi-tasking, but having a baby has made me slightly better at it. I decided to try to sign/print the back of each bond while Baby was eating. No problem, except by this point I'd lost the pen the teller had lent me. I had to search through the glove box while simultaneously keeping Baby feeding and quiet and happy. I found a pen and got to work. Baby finished eating right around when I finished my work, so I picked him up, grabbed my bonds and reentered the bank. I handed over the stack of bonds-eeeek-and the teller told me to have a seat because it would take awhile. I paced around the bank with Baby, while the teller did her work and the other teller asked me things like "Is your baby a girl?" or gave me advice "If you continue to not support his neck, his head will fall off and create a huge mess in our bank." Thanks. After about 15 minutes, the teller finished cashing/depositing my meager life savings. I took my receipt, thanked her, and went on my way. Aside from the initial screamfest, Baby did pretty well at the bank. Target, however, was an entirely different matter.
30 April 2007
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