Today’s Lesson: Situational Awareness…

Sometimes, we all have one of those days — the kind where someone is crying (possibly me) and the idea that I am going to have a good day laughs in my face. From the moment my feet hit the floor, it felt like it was just one thing after another. So I figured instead of pretending it didn’t happen, I’d sit down and tell you all about it!

My goofy Possum, aka Cassy

It started out with me and mom loading up both the girls and heading to the oral surgeon for the next round of Izzy’s meds. While in the waiting room, I thought that the red marks on Cassy’s face was from her nails (Am I the only one who thinks a baby’s nails are like tiny razor blades?). A few probing questions later and it turns out mom accidentally used menthol nose wipes on the girls instead of regular wipes. No harm done, no tears shed… we both were cracking up once we realized what had happened, and thankfully other than a little redness, their skin was totally fine — just… invigorated.

If you’ve ever taken kids anywhere medical, you know it’s basically a tactical mission. We had an hour of observation in the exam room, which meant feeding them, changing them, entertaining them, and trying to keep everything from touching the floor. Nothing more dirty than a doctor’s office floor. But, we managed beautifully, got some lunch after, and even did some shopping.

Sounds like a busy day, but a good day. Right?

Well…

That’s where it kinda went the wrong way down a one way street.

We were finishing up shopping, doing the usual juggling act of bags, diaper changes, and feeding two babies before loading everyone into the car. I had even parked in a spot I thought was smart — visible, not tucked away, close enough to feel safe for two women with infants. I’ve always been mindful like that. Or at least, I thought I was.

As we were getting the girls situated, a man approached us asking for money. He wasn’t overly aggressive, and he didn’t immediately feel threatening — but he was still a strange man walking up to two women holding babies in a parking lot. That alone was enough to put my nerves on edge. We politely told him no and tried to stay calm, focusing on finishing what we were doing.

Feed the baby. Change the diaper. Buckle the straps. Go home.

We were a little frazzled, but things happen. You brush it off and keep moving.

Except he didn’t stay gone.

He circled around and came back, this time approaching from behind our car. I felt like every hair on my body was standing on end when I saw him. Thankfully my mom is like a bulldog. Before I could blink, she was yelling and had him backing up and leaving. (Note to self: Paula Godwin will attack first and ask questions later.)

After we were sure he was gone, we quickly moved the car to a handicap spot near the front of the building — closer to the doors, closer to people — and finished strapping the girls in so we could leave safely. It was a different kind of scary.

I wasn’t worried about my purse. I wasn’t worried about being robbed. I was worried about my daughters.

Everything in me shifted into protection mode.

I ended up calling the police, not because something terrible happened, but because something could have. And that was enough. I realized that my normal routine will have to change. Parking choices. How long we linger. How distracted I allow myself to be while loading the car. Not just out of fear — but out of necessity. I was always aware that the world may or may not be dangerous, but I learned it isn’t always predictable. And sometimes being aware of your surroundings isn’t about assuming the worst — it’s about being prepared to protect what matters most.

Let’s just say your girl will no longer be relying on “strong eye contact” and mom vibes alone. I’ve officially entered my don’t test me era. While I still believe in kindness and minding my business, I also believe in being prepared — so yes, there now may or may not be a little extra “insurance policy” in my glove box.

At the end of the day, I don’t want this story to feel bigger than it was. Nothing terrible happened. We went home. The girls were safe. Life moved on. And I know I try to make my content funny and relatable, but I hope to educate as well. I was a teacher once upon a time, and that has stuck with me.

So, here is what my day taught me.

We can’t control every situation and we can’t predict every encounter, but we can stay alert. We can trust our instincts.

I learned that protecting my peace sometimes means adjusting my habits. That being kind doesn’t mean being naïve. And that strength can look like a grandmother chasing a grown man away from her grandbabies without a second thought.

We can always do better — even if that means parking closer, leaving faster, or carrying a little extra peace of mind with us wherever we go.