Every new mother gets one absurd storyline in her origin myth.
Mine was TSA.
For the first year, I migrated back and forth between New York and my hometown like a determined salmon with a stroller.
Every three months.
Diaper bags, breastmilk, infant Tylenol, winter clothes in summer, summer clothes in snow — the whole logistical circus.
I became so efficient at airport life that I could dismantle and reassemble a stroller faster than most couples resolve arguments.
^ One. Handed.
UnderTheRock Diaries 