Conversations with Mary Helen

Our church has started a women's mentoring program just recently.  For it's inaugural run, I have been paired with an uh-mazing woman named Mary Helen.

[Insert a glamour shot photo of MH here.  I meant to take a photo when we got together yesterday, but I forgot.  As per usual.  Maybe if I had a camera that I loved as much as my computer, or my children, I guess.  Justin...]

Mary Helen and I are paired with each other until September, and then we get new partners and aren't allowed to talk anymore.  Just kidding about that one.  But if she's a total dud I'll just change my phone number.  Also kidding.  So for the spring and summer, she's stuck with me.  The woman toting around a baby and a boy who thinks instead of walking through the parking lot, it would just be easier for him if I dragged him by his arm.  Which brings me to the meat and potatoes of this post.

After we ate together at smashburger (also uh-mazing, by the way) we headed out to our cars.  I gave Milo my key to hold on to, because up until then he had MH's, but obviously she needed them so she could escape the madness that is my party of three.  I put Milo in the car, shut the door and walk around to the front to say goodbye.  I go to open Lu's door and it's locked.  Panic.  I look in the car and Milo is in the driver's seat holding my one and only key and a smile ear-to-ear (which reminds me I need to get another made.  But have you ever had to buy the keys with a smart chip in it?  Muy expensive.)  Double panic.

So MH holds Luie while I press my face to the glass trying to get Milo to hit the right button on the door.  He was soooo close.  And I was sooo close to a full-blown freak out.  Then, MH in all her wisdom saves the day.  "Milo, push the buttons on the key."  Duh, Bridget.  And what do you know, the first button he hits unlocks the door.

I grabbed him out (with love, I promise) and squeezed him.  I didn't know if I should cry or faint.  Or do both.

I wouldn't be surprised if MH got in her car and made a call asking for a new partner.  "Yes, I'd like to trade out.  The one I've got is defective."

But bless her heart, she really did save the day.  I hope she knows what she's gotten into.  I'm a lot of work.  And definitely a work-in-progress.

Goals for our next get-together:
      - Not make a fool of myself.
      - ....

I honestly thought I had more goals, but I think that if I can nail that one, we're golden.