Friday, September 3, 2010

They Say

They say that babies are a blessing.
They say a lot of things.
It was probably asking too much of Eileen on Saturday, but I wanted to get out of the tiny apartment and made an impulsive decision to swing by the National Archives. Eileen had had a nap, Eileen had eaten, Eileen had even been drinking water pretty steadily and did not have a dirty diaper.
There would have been no reason for Eileen to cry, right?
Wrong.
Let me paint the picture for you...
I have pigtails in my hair... don't laugh, it's all I could do with it before I get it chopped. I am wearing exercise clothes and have my big-ass jogging stroller. We roll through the archives at a pretty good clip and E is actually having a great time looking around, having space, and not being in 99 degree weather. At some point, I thought it wise to remove her from the stroller and let her push it. No big deal, right? It'll wear her out faster, right? Totally. So, the clip slows down and we are still pushing forward. The archives wind around and around and around and culminate in the rotunda where you have to wind around and around to get out. 
The rotunda, oh the rotunda! Not to be missed... We saw the Magna Carta and apparently, that's where the tip started to fall. But, foolish me did not notice as the guards were being so helpful showing me how to get up to the main rotunda with my stroller. 
The lights in the main rotunda were dimmed. People spoke in hushed voices. It was a quiet, reverent place- as it should be in the presence of these original documents that made us a country. [Sidenote: I saw the Declaration of Independence and Bill of Rights... when I saw the Bill of Rights, I **literally** said **out loud** , "OHHHHHH, THE BILL OF RIGHTS! HOW COOL!?" Yes, that is me.
So, lights dimmed, hushed voices, everyone walking in a circle around the walls of the round room looking at the old, old documents. Picture perfect Saturday. Husband was on call, and I had forgotten that I was wearing pigtails in a museum... Eileen was precious crawling around the floor and making friends left and right, until she decided that she didn't want to make anymore friends. 
She started screaming. Not that quiet whimper, but that screaming where you tear off into their room to see how much blood is on the floor. In the rotunda, the round room with perfect acoustics of the baby reverberating off all the walls. I could not hold her as she almost squirmed out of my arms. More fearful of dropping my precious babe on the hard marble floor than the ensuing scene.... Eileen was carefully placed on the floor, where she threw her fit of all fits in the perfectly quiet room. And I, in my pigtails, standing over her, waiting.... praying for it to end.
When she finally cooled off enough for me to pick her up (more screams), we made it out of the room into another echo-y/marble room with more security guards. This room apparently pitches into the rotunda, because it was still bad.  Real bad.
By the time we wound our way out of there, she'd cooled off and wondered what all the fuss was about.
Whatever.

1 comment:

Lauren said...

Ohhh, I'm so sorry. We've all had *the screaming kid* at one point or another. And it might not be the last time. But I promise anyone with kids understands.