Last night, I discovered what a horrible mama I am.

That’s how it felt at least.

I climbed into the driver’s seat of our Nissan by myself and made a trip a whopping three miles away. I was nervous being away from the boy for such an extended period of time, but also? I enjoyed the living hell out of it.

Where did I go on this momentous trip? Walmart.

Yes, super exciting.

Walmart has a lot of haters for many good reasons. That’s fine. I get it; I even agree with it.

But, back in Greene County, Indiana?

That’s all we had, and I still can’t walk into a Walmart — a rarity these days — without feeling a lump in my throat. It makes me think of my Gram. It reminds me of humid Sundays mostly spent playing in the yard and punctuated only by a trip to that big store one town over with its cool rush of air and aisles of toys.

So, tooling around Walmart last night felt not only like a temporary reprieve of the intense pressure that is brand new mamahood, but also like a moment of coming home. And, I savored it.

Yes, I spent most of my time there standing in the baby section comparing diapers and measuring the merits of binkies. And, over the course of an hour, I probably checked my phone oh, 243 times to make sure Ryan hadn’t called for me to come home.

The point is, I was alone. Cue the confetti.

My one and only exchange was when I stopped a young employee stocking the wedding/party section to ask where I might find a baby book.

This was her response:

A baby book? I have no idea… It’s hilarious they have so many accoutrements for babies these days.

I think I stood there blinking for a good 20 seconds weighing whether her response should make me feel very old or incredibly cutting edge, and also, did she really just use the word accoutrements???, before I finally managed to say, “Um, okay. Thanks.”

Ultimately, I left without one of those newfangled baby books, but I did manage to come home with at least five things not on my list, including a shareable bag of M&Ms (which I most certainly did NOT share).

On the way home, I cranked up Beyonce, ate my candy, and drove around my block three times just to stretch out the trip sans my sweet-cheeked boy.

Horrible, awful mama, I may be.

But, goodness, it felt good.