I went to go pick up Otis’ big boy car seat the other day. I thought I wouldn’t have to get this seat until his year old birthday. But when you’re 24 pounds at 7 months certain milestones come at you a little faster.
So I went to Wal-mart’s Site to Store pick up. Which requires id. Which I have. In an assortment of names. Because I’m lazy and should have gone with my gut and just became an Oates. Double last names are not fun. Don’t let anyone tell you any different.
I go to pick up the car seat and the girl checks my id against my email. She’s super sweet. So sweet that you’re really not sure how to interpret her…
Walmart Girl: So your id says McKinney-Oates and the order is for McKinney…
Me: (interrupting her) Yeah, let me explain…
Walmart Girl: And it says that Mark Oates can pick up, too. So I’m putting two and two together…
Me: Yeah, we were married. I mean, are married. We aren’t divorced.
Walmart Girl: Soooo when was the big day???
From her excited tone I know she thinks the “big day” happened recently. Because only newlyweds still have an assortment of names, right? I don’t want to keep the focus on my mismatched identity so I just go with it.
Me: A couple months ago. It’s great. But still getting all the name changes sorted out…
I think we’re going to drop it. But no.
Walmart Girl: Oh, I know it’s hard. My friend has been married a year and hasn’t gotten it all done. A year! Crazy.
Me: Ahem. Yeah, that’s crazy!
So she kept talking about her crazy friend who didn’t change all of her identification immediately and was still getting mail at her parent’s house. Gasp. And all I could think was that Otis was a McKinney on everything while we were at the hospital because I never changed my name on my insurance. And all of our insurance correspondence? Still goes to my parents’ house. 3 years. But I wasn’t going to share that.
A girl comes around the corner with my two huge car seats.
I immediately realize that I’d told this girl I’d only been married for a couple of months and am now picking up two car seats. The Teenage Christian Guilt attacked and all of a sudden I desperately wanted to share that we were married long before we were pregnant. Because God forbid she think the baby was conceived out of wedlock. Except telling her we were married 3 years ago would mean admitting that I was, well, a liar. And I was at least 3 times as shameful as her friend still getting mail at her parents’ house.
It was clearly a lose-lose situation. So I just let her think whatever she wanted and went on my lying, Baby Momma way.
Because that’s how I roll.