True Confessions

I swore I would never become that woman. But somehow here I am pulling those shenanigans and it has led me to this point: standing in the alley, towel on my head, waving at neighbors like a lunatic. I should back up. I should explain who that woman is. My sister had worked at J. Crew for some time and had come across women that would spread their purchases over cash and every card in their wallet just so their husbands wouldn't know the magnitude of their J. Crew addiction. I would shake my head, look down my nose, and declare with as much self-righteousness as I could muster, that I would never do that.

Well, I had my own addiction. These months after pregnancy and Ethan's birth, I find that maternity clothes are too large and I can't squeeze into any of my pre-preggo clothes yet. Enter Lululemon. Oh, those glorious stretchy fabrics! Yes, I am that yoga-pants-all-the-time new mama. The "I can't fit into anything" excuse had become my mantra for recklessly buying over-priced "active" wear. And I was starting to view it as a right.
Twelve weeks of maternity leave with only one income, six weeks of 60% pay, holidays, and a work/family trip was not lending itself to my new-found "right" to Lululemon yoga pants.  

Staring into my wallet as I stand at the checkout of my latest shopping spree, knowing the total on the register would shock my husband when he checked the bank account {it's ok if I got it on sale, right?}, I reach for my credit card that I had before marriage. The one that he doesn't check. Swipe. Done deal. Final sale. I just became her.

Of course one sneaky act inevitably leads to another. My husband is savvy enough to notice any tell-tale black and red shopping bag and would question me. I couldn't lie to his face! That would just be wrong! Solution: I hide the shopping bag. I could leave it in my car and retrieve it the next day when he would be at work. Problem solved!

The next day, with Ethan sleeping, I can finally pop in the shower and then wear my new Lulu!! After a quick shower I throw on pajama pants, a zip hoodie, and a towel for my wet hair. I head for the back door. I don't need coat. I mean, I'm a born and bred Minnesota girl. I can handle 5 degrees for 2 minutes. I shut the door solidly behind me. It's freaking 5 degrees! I can't leave the door ajar! I race to the garage, gather my goods, and race back to the house. The doorknob doesn't turn. I'm locked out! My first thought is my baby is in there and I have no way to get to him! New realities quickly rush over me. No keys, no phone, no socks, and no outerwear of any kind. Just my silly bag of workout clothes.

I knew I could get into the garage and it was at least 10 degrees warmer in there with shelter from the wind. I open the door to the garage to try to hunker down and figure out my game plan when I hear the tell tale crunching of tires in the alley. I bolt to the edge of my driveway and start waving like crazy. I think it's a work truck. I sure hope he is a neighbor. Oh, who cares! I just want a cell phone! I pretty sure he initially thinks I am an overzealous, over-friendly neighbor and politely waves back and keeps rolling down the alley. He must have eventually seen the panic in my face because I hear the squeal of his breaks and a door pop open. I quickly follow him and explain my predicament. 

He kindly offers to let me sit in the cab as I use his cellphone to desperately try to get a hold of Dan. Finally we connect and Dan is coming to save me. My neighbor suggests staying at his house until my husband arrives. I am much too embarrassed to go over to his house an explain myself once again to his wife. That would just continue the humiliation. No, I'll just wait it out in my garage. I thank him profusely and head back to my garage.

About 7 minutes later I hear Dan pull into the driveway. I hop out of the car, rush to the back door, and fly into the house as soon as he has it unlocked. I stop above Ethan's bassinet. His sleeping face is as sweet as ever with his little lips making sucking movements. No crying. No panic. None the wiser that his mamma is completely ridiculous.

With my life turning into a fable of the Aesop's flavor, I feel I must learn a moral. And that is to never hide purchases {or anything!} from the husband again or it might come back to {frost}bite me in the behind! I never want to fall into the trap of being her again.

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