Excuse me . . .

But this guy is super cute.

A few random points of interest . . .

1) Look at Mr. Houdini here . . . thinks he's so clever busting out of his swaddle. Well, little man, if you think that will deter me from putting you in your "baby straight jacket" you are wrong. Jacob - 1, Mom - 0, but I will be back. I'll be back.

2) Check out this car. Who do you think it belongs to? A huge burly lumber jack?

No. It's my sister JoAnna. She's beautiful and educated and awesome . . . and a cameo crazed huntress. (Did I mention she has killed a deer? And Robbie is a big fan of the deer jerky.)

3) I tried on this shirt in Gap the other day:

I was asking the sales associate's opinion and he asked what my profession was. I panicked a little inside! What am I? A Mom. That's a profession, and I am 100% ok with that. I know this to be true in my head . . . but what will this stylish, sexually ambiguous, salesman think of that? Probably nothing, but I still was anxious about admitting my current job - for which the required dress code consists of sweats and t-shirts. Apparently I can't purchase a relatively "nice" shirt without an official professional outlet??

"I'm a teacher!" I blurted. Which is technically true. I am still a certified teacher on maternity leave. However, I should be fine saying that I stay at home with my child, as well. At least now I'm prepared for my next encounter buying professional-ish clothes . . . I'm a Mom . . . and I'll dress up whenever I darn well please.

Stupid

A few days ago, Jacob and I decided to go visit a friend. We packed ourselves up and headed for the car, which is in a parking garage about a half a block away. I put Jacob in his car seat and then put my purse and other belongings on the passenger seat, ready for a speedy departure. I then put his stroller in the trunk and went around to my door to get things rolling . . . But tragedy struck! I went to open the driver's side door to find it was locked. Ugh. I must have only unlocked Jacob's door when I put him in, I thought. Nope. All the doors were locked. All the doors locked and my keys, phone and purse on the passenger seat, safely inside . . . along with my baby. Needless to say, I panicked.

I didn't want to leave little Jacob in the car while I searched for help, but I also was stuck in the garage with no way to get the car unlocked. I felt the tears in the corners of my eyes and thought about what I would say for my acceptance speech as the worst mother ever. I ran around the corner of the garage, still having the car in sight, to see if I could find anyone to help. The laundry room is right next to the garage, and LUCKILY there was someone in there doing their laundry. I knocked on the window, told my pitiful story and asked if I could use her phone. Again, fate was on my side, and she was SO nice to let me use her phone and wait with me.

I called the non-emergency 311 number, but hung up after I heard "Your wait time is . . ." No! I couldn't wait. (Meanwhile, Jacob is just looking at me, peacefully, through the window.) I call 911 and tell the operator that I am a big dummy and locked my kid in the car. She was very quick to tell me that she would send the fire department on its way. "The fire department? Oh, I just need the car to be --" "They will be there shortly," she interrupted. The whole fire department?? Surely they have a small jeep for situations like these. A huge fire truck coming down my one-way street with sirens blaring is all that I need to really make me bask in the utmost embarrassed of the situation . . . and that is exactly what I got.

At least the firemen were very nice and kind and unlocked the car with ease. The whole ordeal was probably about 15 minutes, which is also just about how long it took for the huge fire truck to back down my one-way street with me following behind, head hung in shame. It was all quite humiliating, but at least no permanent damage was done. Well, except for my ego perhaps.

In honor of the brave men who saved Baby Jacob: