We really left our brains behind. I’m not sure they’re ever really with us anymore. Jill asked me what I wanted to get at the mall moments after hopping into the car, double checking the car seats, and giving up on stuffing two strollers in the trunk… “Ummm yeah I should have made a list. I’m not really sure…”
The following is an excerpt Jill wrote on her blog (private blog) about one of the many moments where our brains were apparently engaged in the other world. The one that does not exist in the present.
“Let’s go grab food first,” Annie said. I agreed, and we began to traverse Ala Moana Shopping Center with our two girls. I pushed Ava in the stroller; Annie carried Ellie in the sling. We made our way to the elevator.
When we arrived, we found the elevator already jam-packed with other Moms with strollers and toddlers. We decided to wait for the next ride. We stood around for a minute or two, until a couple of families came up and stood next to us. It was then that we realized that we had not pushed the down button. I reached over and pushed it. Unfortunately, the people behind us needed to go up. Since the button had already been pushed, we got on, the doors closed, and prepared for our ride down. I fiddled with the stroller wheel because it didn’t seem to be rolling well; Annie waited. Neither of us thought to push the button. The door opened again. We saw confused looks on the people’s faces. “Going up?” they asked. “Down,” we replied. “Sorry.”
The doors closed again, and I pushed the button to head down to the food court. Unfortunately, I didn’t do this before someone on the floor above us summoned the elevator. Up we went. As the new rider entered the elevator, I prayed that she was also going to the food court. No such luck. We went right back down to where we had been. Annie and I hid our faces in shame. When I looked up, we saw the same families, exasperated. “It accidentally went up,” Annie said quietly.
If you’re counting, that’s three times we denied these poor parents access to the elevator. They were not amused. They looked at us like teeny bopper mall rats who were playing some cruel joke on them. We just hung our heads in shame and wondered at the effect our babies have had on our mental capacities.