December 2004 Archives

For many years I've lived by the belief that honesty will keep my life
less complicated and for the most part it has, but now I think that
I'll be subject to the consequences of how my honesty affects other
people. Well all I can say is read my journal at your own risk.
Reading my journal entries offers the unique opportunity to learn more
about my personal thoughts and opinions and it also offers the risk of
offending you too. I'm not going to apologize for how I feel about
things because these are my thoughts. For the most part, I'm a good
person and like everyone else I have character flaws and I'm not
perfect, but I'm not intentionally going out of my way to hurt people.
I'm writing these entries for my own personal benefit and to remember
them in the future. However, I never actually thought that people
would read my stories and now some of my family members are upset about
some of my comments. What they don't understand is that my journal is
just for me, not them and I was being honest about how I feel. If you
don't like it, don't read it.

As we know, everyone sees the world through their own lens and their
point of view is different from everyone else's. A classic example of
this is when police officers question people at a crime scene and every
witness has a different recollection of what actually happened. Well,
lately I've been doing a lot of writing about my personal life and my
memories throughout my life. I haven't had a chance to talk to these
people yet and maybe I won't even bring it up because we've had this
whole discussion before. The particular comments in question I wrote
in my journal were for me to put my thoughts down and not intended to
be used as a weapon to hurt them. Also, my comments may have been more
dramatic because I was in the last week of my pregnancy with raging
hormones and discomfort and that always colors my writing. I kind of
feel like I can't be honest with my feelings anymore and I'm a bit
worried to even write all of this down. My sister suggested that I
password protect my Blog in order to keep my personal information
protected. I'll have to consider it, but now I feel like I have to
censor my thoughts, but out of consideration for others, I'll try to be
a bit more diplomatic and careful with my word choices.

I tasted this cobbler at a wedding on June 19th, 2004 and it was
fantastic. After begging the chef for the recipe she kindly shared it
with me.
This would make a great holiday treat.
Enjoy

> Cobbler Receipe
> from Mountain Springs Lodge in Wenatchee, Washington.
>
> -1/3 c. flour
> -1/4 tsp baking powder
> -pinch of salt
>
> * combine & set aside
> ---------------------------------------------
> -8 Tablespoons unsalted butter @ room temp
> -1/2 c. sugar
>
> * beat together until light and fluffy than add the ingredients below
> and beat until smooth
>
> -1 large egg yolk (one whole egg if doubling)
> -1/4 tsp vanilla extract
>
> *stir in the dry ingredients until just combined
> ---------------------------------------------
> Filling:
> -36 oz. frozen fruit
> -1 Tablespoon cornstarch
> -3/4 c. sugar
> -1 tsp vanilla
> -lemon juice
> ---------------------------------------------
> Put in pan an dbake @ 400 for 15 minutes, stir after removing. Drop
> heaping tablespoons of batter onto teh wram fruit and bake for 40 more
> minutes.
>

Scone Recipe
these come from the Harrison House B&B on San Juan Island, WA

>
> Hi Nancy,
>
> No secrets here! Just mix all the dry ingredients well before adding
> liquids, and don't mix too much after that...just enough to make cherry
> sized balls. Then make a larger ball, flatten gently on a floured
> surface
> and cut into sixths. Bake at 360 on a thick cookie sheet (double them
> if you
> only have thin ones) for 16-19 minutes or until lightly browned.
>
> 1/2c quick oats
> 1/4c scotch oats
> 2/3c sugar
> 1/2 tsp salt
> 1/2c white rice flour
> 1/2c brown rice flour
> 1/4c whole wheat flour
> 1 1/2c white low gluten flour
> 2 tsp baking powder
> 1/2 tsp baking soda
> 1/2 cup chopped nuts
> 1/2 cup chopped dried fruit
> (option..1/2 cup unsweetened coconut)
>
> 1/2c canola oil
> 1/2c plus milk-keep some on the side, adding to get the cherry ball
> effect
> Drizzle of extract of your choice
>
> You can substitute, add, delete just about anything and they will turn
> out
> as long as you don't get them too wet when forming (they'll resemble
> cookies)
>
> All the best!
>
> Farhad
>

I just received the best voicemail from one of my clients who got
married June 19, 2004 and she was so happy with her photo album and
reprints. I was a little worried because when I met with her on
Saturday she and her husband were not too excited about the photos, but
they were very complimentary. I guess they just needed to look at the
photos for a while before the impact really hit them. She also told me
that their mothers just loved the photos and she just ordered a few of
them.

It's so nice when people appreciate the artwork that I create for them.
They know that they could have hired anyone to photograph their
wedding and get lots of pictures of their day, but I know that they
pay a lot of money for my artwork and they should be thrilled when they
receive their memories. Hearing them exclaim or cry over their photos
is the big pay off for me. Knowing that I did a good job makes all the
work worthwhile.

As I look at the calendar today, I am reminded that ten months ago I
was called to active duty for assignment in Iraq. I have to admit that
I was pretty excited about going to be a war correspondent which is
every journalist's dream. The downside of those aspirations is that I
would have to leave Doug and my two precious doggies behind for more
than a year. I was worried about so many things.

For several months prior to my activation, I knew that my unit was on
the list to get called up for Iraq and I didn't tell Doug because he
was pressuring me to get out of the Army and I just wasn't ready to let
go yet. I really wanted to take my unit and do great journalism
despite the hardships and danger. One last adventure before retiring
to civilian life. I was torn between adventure and love for my
husband.

In October of 2003, poor Doug broke his leg. It was terrible too
because it was a very serious break that required immediate surgery and
hospitalization and we were only one week away from going to Europe
with our family. Doug felt terrible for letting his family down. I
felt awful because he was in so much pain and that I was going to have
to leave him while I escorted our family around Europe without him.

When I had first received the phone call about Doug, one of his
co-workers told me that he had broken his ankle and was being
transported to the hospital. I wasn't too worried because I figured
they'd cast him up, give him some good drugs and then we could meet our
family in Europe a few days after our start date. However, when I got
to the emergency room it was apparent that Doug would not be going
anywhere anytime soon. The emergency room doctor started telling me
about Doug's condition and as I looked at x-rays of his grossly
extended foot and engorged leg my head began to swim and I almost
fainted right there. The smell of alcohol, Doug's moans of agony and
my lack of lunch had caught up to me and I was almost a casualty right
next to him.

Fortunately for Doug the team doctor for the US Olympic Ski Team was on
call that day and he performed the surgery. When Doug was coming out
of post-op Dr. Mandt explained how he had repaired Doug's leg and ankle
and I was so thankful that he had done the job, as a section of leg had
been shattered and the ankle needed work too. I had never seen a leg
break like that before, it was truly tragic and if not repaired
properly Doug would have had a limp for the rest of his life.

The next day, I arrived at the hospital to spend time with Doug and as
I entered the room his eyes lit up like I was the only person in the
world who could speak his language. Poor guy had the bad luck of
having Nurse Ratchet attending to him and making him get out of bed and
giving him medications that made him sick. I could see the pain in his
face and his desire to go home. Several hours later, Doug was released
from the hospital and drove home.

The next few days were a challenge to manage Doug's pain and to take
care of him at the same time. He was worried about becoming addicted
to prescription drugs like Rush Limbaugh and he used his meds
sparingly. I kept encouraging him to stay ahead of the pain and
reminded him that use of the drugs within accordance of doctors orders
would ease his pain and not to worry about addiction, he just needed
to get through the first ten days. He was miserable and all that I
could do was take care of him the best that I could.

As the weekend began to loom upon us we decided that I had to go to
Europe to squire the family around as we had planned the whole trip. I
packed all my things and then hired several people to help Doug. A
couple of his co-workers stopped by and set Doug up with wireless
access to work from his bed on the sofa and now he had internet
activity to occupy his time. I promised that I would email him as
often as I could and would call him every so often to check in on him.
After everything was set and people lined up to check in on Doug, I
boarded the shuttle which took me to the airport.

When I got back from my vacation in October poor Doug had had enough.
He was still in a lot of pain and told me that my sweet little dog,
Grenade had a mean streak in him. Doug said that he would put Grenade
outside to do his business and then he'd wonder off, leaving Doug to
struggle with great effort and tremendous pain to go after him. I felt
really bad about that because I know that Doug suffered so much. As
the anniversary of Doug's broken leg passed by a few days ago, I still
felt bad for leaving him alone and in pain. I'll never know how much
he suffered and I don't want him to go through something like that
again.

As luck would have it, the Adjutant General requested my return to the
Public Affairs office at the first of November and I went back to work
for the National Guard to prepare for the deployment of 4000 soldiers
to Iraq. So, I had to leave Doug at home again. Fortunately, he was
ready to go to work and was able to at least be around some of his
co-workers.

When I got back to the office, the first thing that I was asked was,
"Did you have a good vacation?" I said yes and then I heard, "Good
because we've got a lot of work to do and you better pack your bags."
Of course, I asked, "What have you heard?" "You, Captain Treder, are
on the list for Iraq." I nodded my head and went to my desk to finish
my preparations to speak with the media knowing that Major Palmer was
not kidding.

The first of November brought the announcement of the deployment of the
81st Infantry Brigade (4,000) Washington Army National Guard. The
media descended upon my Public Affairs staff like locust. We had media
requests from all of the more than 200 media agencies in the state of
Washington and myriads of requests from all over the US and the
international media was calling too. This time we were ready. My team
used the internet as our press release tool and we rocked! Instead of
going crazy like we had nine months before when the Brigade had
received their alert notice, we were controlling the flow of
information better than the media outlets. We simply told the media
that we would do everything we could to get them their interviews as
long as they sent their requests via email. With email we were able to
track every request in our database and I was able to call all the
media outlets to conduct TV and telephone interviews. Within the first
few crushing hours, my MSG and I conducted more than 20 interviews.

5:00 p.m. We all gathered around the TVs to see if our efforts were
successful. We were amazed at how well the media actually told our
story. We were able to get all the information to the public and it
was accurate! We hit a home run. At 6:00 p.m. General Toney visited
our office and told us that we had done a great job informing the
public, we knew that we had done a great job, but the recognition was
nice too.

As the days ticked by toward the Nov. 15th mobilization date of the
81st Brigade, our days were filled with interviews, press releases,
tracking down soldiers for interviews and even helping Dateline,
Nightline and other major media outlets the days flew by quickly. It
was so much fun to be in the center of the storm knowing that we were
in control of our environment and that the media was happy. Many,
many journalists told me, "We've never had access like this before." I
always told them that we were here to help them inform the public and
we were happy to do so. I was in my element, I was living my dream
job.

December 1st, I walked into the office and everyone looked at me and I
said, "The MOB (mobilization) order came in, didn't it?" They nodded
and handed me the orders that had been faxed from the Pentagon and
there it was, the 122nd MPAD was on the list for deployment to
Operation Iraqi Freedom 2 with a report date of January 3, 2004. There
it was in black and white, my marching orders sending me to Iraq. I
had 30 days to prepare for deployment. That night I had to tell Doug
and it was not an easy conversation. He was upset and kept telling me
that I should have resigned when he asked me too. I was feeling scared
and worried at the same time, but ready to go.

A few days later I reported for the December drill at the unit and the
deployment was the topic of every discussion. I had been warning the
soldiers for months that we would be going sooner or later, I just
thought it would be in Operation Iraqi Freedom 3 not OIF2. However,
the MPAD was ready and we started the long process of packing and
readying ourselves for the deployment.

I had to go through the Soldiers Readiness Program that day so I would
be free for briefings when we had to report in January. All day I went
from station to station going over my personnel file updating my
information and making decisions like increasing my life insurance
benefit for my beneficiaries. I also had to write my will with the
help of the JAG officers who were amused by some of my comments. I had
to designate who would get my personal belongings, camera equipment,
photo archives, funeral arrangements etc.

Not very many people have to make these decisions at such a young age,
but it really makes you think about what you want you want to take
place after your death. I asked for a military funeral in a military
cemetery and that my husband would get all of my belongings. Later
that day, I wrote a letter to be included with my will stipulating
specifics for my funeral and a letter to be read to my friends and
family. I wanted to get the last word.

At the end of that day, I had to go through the physical exam and
everything was a "Go", but then I hit a snag. I was determined unfit
for duty due to my back injury received one year earlier. When the
Colonel told me this information, I could see his lips moving, but my
mind was not thinking of what he was saying. I was thinking that Doug
would be so happy to hear my news. However, at the same time I knew
that I would be letting my troops down as they would have to go to Iraq
with another commanding officer who didn't know them and may not be as
good at the job as myself. I was conflicted, I really wanted to go and
get my combat command as a Public Affairs Officer. I had been
preparing for this moment since 1993 and now I couldn't go. I would
never be able to say, I had been there.

It was a long drive home that night and I was missing Doug's movie
night party in our newly installed home theatre, but I knew he wouldn't
be disappointed when I shared my news with him. During the long rainy
drive, I kept thinking that I had been given a reprieve, but I felt
guilty for being left behind. How was I going to reconcile this with
my soldiers? Who would watch over them? Who would fight for the
journalistic integrity of my soldiers? All these thoughts occupied my
mind as I watched the headlights and tail lights on the hour long drive
home.

I got home and everyone was watching Star Wars and I said hello to
everyone. They were all asking me questions about the deployment etc.
because Doug had told them that I was going to Iraq and now they were
personally affected by the war. Of course, they were curious. In a
moment of privacy I told Doug that I was not going and he hugged me so
hard that I thought I'd break, he was happy and then again he told me
that I needed to get out now. I told him that I couldn't, that I had
to help get the 81st Infantry Brigade ready and the my soldiers in the
MPAD too. I was going to stay on active duty for a couple of months
until everyone shipped out. He wasn't happy about to hear that, but he
was relieved that I would be staying home. In a way, I was too, but I
just wished that I wasn't the one being left behind.

About a week later, I had to have some surgery to remove some fibroids
and it was not fun. My mother flew up to help us out as I was not able
to do much of anything for several days afterwards. It took a few
weeks to recuperate and then I was back to work helping to get 4,000
Washington National Guardsmen get ready for deployment to Iraq. The
days were long, but I loved my role as spokesman for the National
Guard. I was living in my dream job.

In February my doctor began another round of treatment and to our great
surprise we found out that I was pregnant in March. Our lives changed
in an instant and we were so happy. On the drive home from the
doctor's office, I started thinking about my car accident and the lady
that hit me and I always asked, "why me?" Maybe it happened because it
prompted me to find another fertility specialist and it kept me from
going to Iraq? I'm not sure if there was a reason for the accident
except that I was at the right place at the wrong time and now I suffer
long term results from my injuries, but we now have Finnegan and he's
the best reason of all.

Today, Finnegan is one month old and I've been sick all day with a cold
and I'm afraid of giving it to Finn. I'm hoping he'll be spared the
misery of head congestion, scratchy throat, runny nose, coughs and
headaches. He's been fussy for several days and it's sometimes hard to
calm him down, let's hope he just has some tummy troubles due to my
cold.

Despite the aches and pains I'm feeling stronger, but I still worry
about dropping Finn as my body is very weak and I'm not very strong
yet. If I make a sudden move in a direction that my body isn't ready
for, I experience great pain or my knees buckle. Last week, Doug got
up to change Finn and I woke up to feed him, as I walked to the couch I
fell to the floor and it scared me so much. Eventually, I had to crawl
to the couch and Doug brought Finn to me without knowing what had
happened. I worry each time I carry him down the stairs or bend over
to pick him up because I don't know if my legs will hold up. I feel
like I have an old body and it's just not fair.

One of our neighbors told me about baby yoga and I think that it would
be a good thing for me because we can do it together. As long as it
helps me to get stronger and regain my mobility it will be worth it.

October 26th, 1995 was the worst day of my life. That's the day that I
was given a Red Cross message informing me that my Grandfather had
died. I wish that I still had that small piece of paper that so
unraveled my being in order to look at it when times are tough knowing
that nothing could be as bad as that day.

If we are lucky, we may meet one person in our life who will love us
unconditionally and show us the joy that life has to offer. My
grandfather was that person for me. He was my father's father and he
took care of me when I left home after high school. He was the most
loving and unbiased person I've ever know and today I still miss him.
After I graduated high school, like every new graduate things just
weren't working out the way I had imagined, but fortunately for me, my
Grandfather saved me and brought me to California to live with him.
This is what happened.

In the Fall of 1984, I was attending Beauty School learning to be a
cosmetologist because it was the only school that my mother would let
me attend while still living at home. However, there were other strings
attached to that as well. I could only go to school if I went to the
meetings, but I was 18 years old and I didn't want to go anymore, but
my mom said I had to live by her rules under her house. I hope I never
say those words.

I was not allowed to go to college despite several scholarships because
Jehovah's Witnesses weren't supposed to do that. I dreamed of going to
college with aspirations of being a genetic engineer, but my mother
would not co-sign on the $1500 student loan for me to pay for room and
board. Instead, I had to give up my track and science scholarships and
stay at home. I couldn't get a bank loan either, I felt trapped as I
saw my dreams of college slip away.

There were other complicating factors that caused this to happen. My
mother had just remarried and now I had two young step-brothers to take
care of and my step-father said he was not going to put anyone through
college partly because one of the neighbor kids down the street had
dropped out of college to be a bartender. I had to pay for her lack of
focus. Needless to say, blending families is tough business and my
mother was more than willing to let my step-father make all the
decisions. I no longer had a say in any matters of the household. I
was now one of the kids.

As I was attending Beauty School, I felt like the worlds biggest loser
because all the girls who didn't have any ambition to go to college
were in my class. After the first month, I was teaching everyone the
chemistry, physiology and mechanics of doing hair while my hair was
falling out in huge clumps. I was going bald and it was extremely
depressing because my mom wouldn't take me to a real doctor, just a
bunch of "healers" that the Jehovah's Witnesses said "cured" people.
Well, after many treatments of macrobiotic vitamin therapy,
electrotherapy and some crazy Cayenne-whiskey topical ointment that
burned my scalp, my hair just fell out faster. I was so frustrated
with the way that I looked, that I told one of my girlfriends to shave
my head. I had decided that it would be better to either be totally
bald or have a full head of hair and my follicles were not cooperating,
so on October 31st, 1984 I put on my mask to hide my shamefully bald
head from the world.

This was the beginning of my temporary slide into depression and as
hard as I tried, I couldn't be happy. My mom was telling all of her
friends that I was bald as she was looking for anyone who could help
her help me, but there wasn't anything anyone could do, I was going to
be bald. End of story.

One day, someone thought they would help me. They dropped off a
horrible wig that they had found in their mother's basement and thought
that I could use it. When I received it, it was the most horrifying
thing I'd ever seen. It had to be at least ten years old and it was in
sad sad shape. But, I took it to school to see if we could salvage it.
My class partner and I washed, conditioned, permed, styled and even
dyed the hairpiece, but it still looked like hell, but I had no other
alternative, but to wear it. When I went home that night, my mom said
it looked good. I guess a covered bald head is better than on that is
not. It was a disaster. I was eighteen years old and had lost my
crowning glory how could I be beautiful in the 1980's when everyone had
so much hair! That night I wrote a letter to my grandfather and poured
out my heart and soul to him. I don't even remember what I said. I
just needed to tell someone how much I needed some help.

As a joke for Halloween, I dressed up as Michael Jackson because he had
recently been in the accident which burned up his hair. I went out for
lunch that day and wore my sunglasses to avoid the questioning eyes of
all the patrons at the Chinese restaurant next door to our school. My
classmates were really supportive and encourage me to be punk rock and
that sounded pretty good, but I wanted to be Madonna with all that
gorgeous hair. That night after dinner I told my mom that I had to get
a new wig or I wouldn't be able to cope with life. As I cried in her
arms I could see that she felt so sad for me because she couldn't fix
me. No matter how hard she tried, I wasn't going to be happy living
at home anymore and despite her best attempts, I was not going to grow
any hair. I didn't feel beautiful or that I had much of a future.

The next day, my mom drove me to the biggest city nearest our town,
Coeur d'Alene, which was 45 minutes away. We went to the only place
that we knew to shop at and that was K Mart. Fortunately, for me, they
had some wigs. Mind you, 20 years ago only grandma bought her wigs at
K Mart. I looked through every one of them and found one that could
be styled and cut to look halfways decent and mom bought it for me. I
was so happy to have a wig, anything was better than that nasty black
spidery thing that had been found in the basement!

At beauty school my partner cut and styled my hair and made me look
like Joan Jett, which was pretty cool for a bald chick. When I went
home that night, my mom wasn't thrilled with my bad girl image, but I
was happy to be me again. Even if I was channeling Pat Benatar and
those women of rock and roll. Things were looking up.

A week or so went by and one day while I was reviewing chemistry
lessons with the class in preparation for one of our tests, one of my
classmates asked me why I was in beauty school? I was dumbfounded and
with my mouth agape, she said I was too smart to be there and that I
should be in college. I didn't know what to say. In that instant she
leveled me to my core in so few words. She was right, I was wasting my
time and only lying to myself in order to maintain my day-to-day
existence. That was it, the straw that broke the camel's back. I just
burst out in tears and couldn't stop. She took me away and let me cry
it out and I felt much better. She was an older woman in her mid-30's
and she knew that I needed to leave. The question was, how?

That night after dinner my mom came to me and gave me a telegram. She
said it was from my Grandpa. I immediately opened and it said, "Come
visit for the holidays. Your plane ticket is at the airport. See you
soon, love Grandpa." I couldn't believe it! My prayers had been
answered. I immediately started shouting, I'm going to California!
I'm going to California! My Grandfather had heard my cry for help and
now I was leaving Idaho with no intention of coming back.

The next day was a blur. I went to school and told my instructors that
I was leaving for California and wasn't sure when or if I'd come back.
Everyone was very excited for me because they knew how much I needed to
get out of out small town. That day I was happier than I had been in
months. My hopes for college were renewed.

Two weeks flew by and most of my days were filled with planning for my
trip. I had to tell my boyfriend who was not happy about me leaving.
He even asked me to marry him to get me to stay, but I knew it wouldn't
work out. He'd cheated on me a couple of times and I just wasn't ready
to get married. I had things to do, places to go and goals to achieve.

My mother took my departure especially hard. She felt like I was
abandoning her. In a way, I was. But, she now had a new husband and I
had my life to live. I couldn't live by their rules anymore. I needed
to find myself and California was the perfect place for me to go.
Finally, departure Saturday arrived and it was minus ten degrees
outside. It was so cold that the tires were stuck in the ice and snow.
Good thing my boyfriend was driving me to the airport for the
three-hour drive because my mom got too nervous driving in snow
conditions. That morning she made me a huge breakfast of all my
favorite foods; pork chops, potatoes and eggs. This was unusual
because I had been eating a very restricted diet for months to cure my
hair loss. I didn't care anymore and I was determined to eat whatever
I wanted. I had dropped down to 79 pounds and looked anorexic. With
no hair on my head, I looked like a cancer treatment patient.

I heard the knock at the door and I looked at my mom knowing this was
the moment we both dreaded. The moment that I was leaving home never
to live with her again. Neither one of us moved to answer the door as
if it weren't happening. Then I jumped up and hugged her and she
cried. I cried too because I knew that this was it. She had done the
best job she could raising me and now I was going out on my own. I
wiped my eyes and turned from her to open the door.

I still remember that cold crisp December morning when my mother looked
out the frosted window as we drove away and I cried because I missed
her already. We both knew that I wouldn't be coming home after the
holidays. My boyfriend tried to console me by telling me that I would
have a great time and would be home soon. After a long silence I
stopped crying and began thinking of my future in California and what
my life would hold for me there.

My mother has gone home and Doug is working during the days and I'm
here alone with Finnegan. Today, it was time for me to go to the mall
with Finnegan on my own. I've been worrying about this for some time
now because I know how difficult it will be. If I think about all the
things that I have to do before leaving the house, I'll get
overwhelmed. So, I have to approach the trip like I used to get ready
for a convoy mission when I was a military police officer. We had to
be able to move, shoot and communicate. With Finnegan I need to be
able to move, feed, diaper and communicate with him.

There are many essential tasks required to complete my mission. First,
I must plan the mission, the route of travel and determine the start
and finish times to coordinate with feeding and sleeping. Second, is
to prepare all the equipment and supplies that I'll need. Transporting
Finnegan requires lots of specialized equipment; car seat, stroller,
diaper bag with all the sub-components and he also requires special
handling. Once all the items have been prepared and inspected for the
trip I have to load them up into the car making sure that Finnegan is
the last to be strapped into the car seat. It takes almost an hour to
properly prepare for a mission because Finnegan needs to be fed before
we leave in order to make sure that his comfort level is at optimum
capacity.

So, I got everything packed, inspected and put Finnegan in the car. My
worst fear was that he would cry the whole way and I would feel awful
about having him strapped down in the car seat. As luck for have it,
he went right to sleep and didn't wake up until after we arrived at our
destination. In the parking lot I decided to feed Finn before going
inside and he was happy about that. It was a good decision too because
he didn't fuss at all during the shopping expedition which helped me a
lot because I was having trouble maneuvering the stroller in the
cramped stores and trying to keep my sanity in tack. The hard part was
going to the grocery store. How do people put the car seat on top of
the grocery cart without it falling off? I couldn't figure it out, so
I just put the car seat in the cart and put what groceries I could
around the car seat. As I was leaving the grocery store, I noticed a
daycare room that the store had set up for free childcare while mothers
did their shopping. I'll have to consider it for next time.

I got back to the car and with everything loaded and accounted for we
drove home without any incidents. Once we were successfully settled
into the house and the groceries put away, Finn and I snuggled on the
couch for some quiet time and he went right to sleep. I felt good
about our trip to the mall. There were many moments of bumbled
attempts at getting the stroller in the trunk or getting the car seat
out of the car, but Finn didn't seem to mind and I was grateful for
that. With practice these activities will go smoother and I'm sure to
have plenty of opportunities to get it right the next time.