Embarrassment in Motherhood

You’re all quite familiar with my Georgia tantrum stories. Well, here’s one with a twist. In fact, this may be my most embarrassing mothering moment ever. Last week, I took my daughter with me to Kohl’s. I desperately needed to try on some clothes, so I decided I could take her to the dressing room and do it quickly. After all she was strapped into her stroller, right? (I admit – not my most brilliant moment.)

There I was in the dressing room, stripping down to my skivvies, and in seconds Georgia had shimmied and wiggled her way out of the straps and was climbing out of the stroller. Apparently looking at herself in the mirror wasn’t enough entertainment for her. She now had herself flattened to the floor with her little blonde head poked under the wall looking up at whoever was trying on jeans in the next dressing room.

I’m sure they heard my horrified whisper of “Georgia Grace! Stop that!” as I drug her back into the dressing room by her feet.

I’m not sure who invented these dressing rooms, but I’m guessing it was a man. No woman would ever make dressing rooms (or public bathrooms for that matter) with a wall that stops at your knees. The escape prospect of that is just too tantalizing for a toddler.

My attempts to put her back into the stroller only caused her to scream like a banshee, so I sat her back down on the floor and futilely tried to block her exit as I stripped down again so I could put my clothes back on. In the time it took me to pull my shirt off over my head, she was gone. Oh double crap.

I opened the door of my dressing room, and saw her chubby little legs going as fast as they could as she ran out of the dressing room area and into the store. I had no choice but to run after her even though I wasn’t dressed! I finally caught up with her in the middle of the women’s section. I’m not sure where she was going, but she certainly did not want to be picked up by mom and taken back to the dreaded stroller.

So, there I was in the middle of Kohl’s in only my bra and panties, bent over nonetheless, trying to wrestle my daughter who was screaming to high heaven and fighting me with every ounce of strength she had. You have never seen such resistance as this girl had when I tried to drag her back into the dressing room.

I’m not sure which was garnering more attention from onlookers – her tantrum or the site of an out-of-shape 35-year-old woman clad in her undies in the middle of a department store struggling with a 2-year-old.

I did finally manage to get Georgia back to the dressing room and get my clothes back on. (To top it all off, the pants I was trying on didn’t even fit!) I carried her out of the store in one arm while pushing the stroller with the other hand, and tried to avert my eyes as we left Kohl’s as quickly as possible. I’m not going back there unless I have a disguise.