Motherhood FAIL of the Week: Cold Hands Warm Heart

Sometimes I think that I'm doing pretty well at this whole Motherhood thing.  I've managed to keep my child alive for going on 15 months now, and I haven't had to be checked in for an extended stay at the Hotel for Crazies, but it does seem that the minute I start patting myself on the back and giving my parenting skills a thumbs up, I have cause to discover that I am far from acing the mothering game.

Sunday morning we set out for a nice little road trip to Santa Barbara.  I was very organized this time, as I got us all packed up the night before.  I had extra clothes, lots of diapers, a lunch for Noah; I  really thought that I was hitting it out of the motherhood park, folks.  All went swimmingly until we made our first stop at the Ventura County flea market.  It was a bit of a brisk spring day here in the southland, which means that the skies were blue and the sun was shining, but there was a strong breeze and the air was chilly.  I realize, of course, that "chilly" in Los Angeles parlance is considered "shorts weather" on the East Coast, but for those of us whose blood has been thinned by too much time in the sun, it was cooler than we're used to.  The flea market was outside, right next to the ocean, on the Ventura County Fair Grounds.  As those of you who are coastal dwellers know, it's windy at the seaside, and this was no exception.  I was terribly glad that I had brought a warm little hoodie for Noah, because it hadn't occurred to me to account for wind chill factor when looking at the weather report.

As we cruised around the flea market with Noah in his stroller, I began to notice lots of other toddlers in strollers as well.  Unlike Noah, however, these toddlers were all cozied up under blankets, and a few were even wearing mittens.  As more and more carriages rolled by with their passengers wrapped up for a winter in the Arctic, I began to panic.  Here I was, blithely rolling my child along in his flimsy umbrella stroller with nary a blanket, wool cap or mitten in sight while the wind howled around his ears.  I was risking my son's health all in the name of finding a good bargain on midcentury modern bedside tables.  Perhaps what I found most distressing about the experience was that I didn't even have a blanket stashed in the car.  For some reason I've never quite gotten my sh*t together enough to outfit my trunk like a second nursery with a changing table, and my poor son was now freezing to death because of it.

Needless to say, we didn't stay too long at the flea market.  Once I noticed that Noah's little hands were like icicles and that his lips were turning blue, I decided that I would have to sacrifice my desire for stylish home decor in favor of being a (somewhat) responsible parent.  I did, however, pick up a fabulous little Mad Men-esque desk lamp for $20, so at least if Noah catches pneumonia or an ear infection it won't be for naught.