A lot of things changed when I became a parent – like, A LOT of things – but one thing that did not change is my level of “hot messness”. You would think with way less time to booze and partake in all the carouses, my this-would-only-happen-to-me moments would melt away and my life would become a tame, almost boring version of its previous self. I mean, that’s what I thought would happen. But instead, I’m just sober in 99% of my this-would-only-happen-to-me moments and am now living life on a whole new level of “I don’t give a BLEEP“.

Queue what feels like my next “big” life lesson: Once a hot mess, always a hot mess.

This dawned on me last Friday as I stood in the parking lot of our always-busy neighborhood Walmart Market with an empty cart, feverishly googling the number of my friend’s gym.

Earlier my friend – whom, pre-babies, I used to go workout with all the time – had invited me to come to a PiYo class over lunch on Friday, and – because why not I graciously accepted. So, we went to the class and me in all my non-yogi, post-partum (how long can I say that?) glory went through each rushed yoga pose as best as I could. I chuckled to myself nearly the entire class – I mean, let’s be serious, my balance, my posture, my coordination – it’s all still a little rusty and, holy shit, does it show. One of the last moves we did was a reverse plank and while I was thinking to myself it’s amazing I’ve never done this before in my whole life, a pain shot through my lower back. Of fucking course I would go to a PiYo class on a Friday and mess up my back. OF COURSE! So, then we get back to the office and as I’m icing my back with a bag of frozen peas (seriously), and I realize I left my shoes at the gym. Also, because of course I did. I decided I’d call and my friend could grab them for me the next day.

Since I was hardly comfortable sitting, Seth said he would pick up the kids and I could go to the store to grab a few things we needed for the weekend. So after work, I go to our neighborhood Walmart Market, grab a cart and start leisurely going through the aisles. I’m walking through the produce section when I get the urge to check my wallet for our debit card. I pull out my wallet and of course it’s not there. I search my purse, it’s not there. At this point, I’m trying figure out where I would have put it and then I remembered I contemplated taking it to the gym. So, I gingerly wheel my cart back out to the car where my gym bag is. No card. Immediately I start to panic that maybe I dropped it in the dressing room at the gym and I realize I never called about my shoes so I start Googling the number. On the phone, the girl tells me they don’t have a girl on staff who can go look in the dressing room to see if either of my items are in there. I wonder what the hell she’s talking about because she’s obviously a girl answering the phone and, therefore, at the gym 15 ft from the dressing room but I give her my number anyway so she can call when there is a woman on staff to go look. As I hang up I realize I haven’t checked the pockets of the jean jacket I’m wearing and almost immediately remember that’s where I put it. Sure enough, it’s been in my pocket the whole time. OF COURSE! Whatever.

I go back into the store and pull up the recipe I’m shopping from. Hard cider was an ingredient in the recipe and for some reason, I’ll blame being flustered, I suddenly didn’t know what hard cider was. I was totally overthinking it, like maybe it’s a more concentrated version of apple cider? So over life, I pull out my phone and decide I’m going to use Siri which I’ve NEVER actually used for anything real and ask him what hard cider is. WTF. I press the button.

“What is hard cider”

Siri thinks for a minute. And then in the middle of the produce section surrounded by two families, I get a response.

“I’M SORRY, BEAUTIFUL SEX KITTEN, I DIDN’T CATCH THAT.”

Ummmmmmmmmmmm…..WTFWTFWTFWTFWTF

Out of mortification (and quite serendipitously) I darted for the beer and liquor aisle where I ran into hard. fucking. cider. and was D O N E forever.

Once a hot mess, always a hot mess.