My Little Pretties

On Saturday we spent the day in the city.  It seemed we had run out of nearly everything in our house, and I was feeling a little Mother Hubbardish.  I had been looking forward to our trip to the city for days.  I wasn’t excited about spending the amount of money I knew we were going to have to spend, but I was looking forward to GETTING OUT OF THE HOUSE.  The kids and I have a bad case of cabin fever.

Yesterday it got so bad that I had to clear out completely.  I packed up the kids, drove twenty four miles to the nearest Wal-Mart, breathed a sigh of relief, and then spent money, got after the kids for fighting, and came home completely exhausted.  Yes, it would have been better to have stayed at home.  My hindsight vision is so clear it’s maddening.

Our day in the city started off wonderfully.  My husband and children went with me into the newly remodeled Joanne’s Fabrics where I nearly fainted with enthusiasm.  I wasn’t able to browse like I would have liked to, but I found what I needed and we went to check out. (I picked up a book titled Apron-ology in the magazine section, fawned over it and then replaced it.  My husband picked it back up and bought it for me.  It has been my constant companion ever since.)  The computers at the registers weren’t functioning quite right, so the line was long.  People were impatient.  Quilters and crocheters alike were beginning to voice their annoyance.  My children were busy rummaging through the displays at the check-out line.

Wooden birdhouses?

Candy?

Books?

Their joy was complete.  My husband and I looked lovingly at each other.  Our eyes locked and spoke (though we never spoke out loud) saying, ‘What little DARLINGS!’

We scooped them up and read books to them.  A woman a few feet in front of us who spoke as business-like as she dressed said, “Your children and beautiful, and they are very well-behaved.”

We thanked her and our eyes locked again.  What little DARLINGS!

As we walked out of Joanne’s and into Bookman’s, my husband confessed that when the woman had complimented our children’s behavior, his chest had puffed out about three feet.  I wrapped one arm around him, told him he was a good dad, and then basked in the wonderfullnes of the day I had been looking forward to for so long.

After Bookman’s, we went to Sam’s Club.  We had to spend SO much money on food.  We went beyond the budget, which we both knew we would but there was no getting around it this time.  The kids had spent the entire shopping trip annoyed with the fact that the other breathed, touched things, and generally existed.  My husband and I walked out of the bulk shopping warehouse with absolutely no bounce in our step, which is ironic given that our pockets were lightyears lighter.  We unloaded the car, buckled the kids in, climbed into our seats and locked eyes.  They were both worn and wary.

“The little stinkers,” I said audibly.  My husband shook his head, and off we went to our last shopping destination.

Super Wal-Mart.  I had to finish our shopping list.

At this point, my once-bouncy hair was limp and frazzled.  My make-up had fallen.  My posture was laughable.  With both kids in tow, my husband and I ventured into the store.

The kids were still at each other’s throats.  They kicked, they touched, they fought, they fought over the food I put into the cart.  They fought over their coats.  They fought over EVER-EE-THING.  I tried to get through the store as quickly and efficiently as my energy would allow.  I didn’t realize that my son had gotten ahold of the Mac n’Cheese.  And can I just say?  We just FED them.  We took them out for “chicken dip its” which, as we all know, is chicken strips.Photobucket
I took it away from him and tried to keep it away from him, but his sister got it and tried EATING the dry macaroni that was escaping.
In frustration, I tried to increase my speed and efficiency. But by the time I’d made it to the cold cereal, my son had taken my glass bottle of red wine vinegar and dropped it over the side of the cart. It broke on the hard floor and the distinct odor of vinegar wafted through the store. I sent my husband for help and with marked embarrassment, I explained to a lady sporting a mop what had happened. She cheerfully sent me on my way, and I apologized my brains out, even after Mop Lady was out of ear shot.
Once at check out, the cashier gasped when she picked up the Macaroni and Cheese box.
“Do we have RODENTS?” She asked, horrified.
“You don’t,” I said, warily pointing to my son, “But I do.”

I have two, in fact. Two “well behaved” little rodents. One of which came home, grabbed his Iron Man fleece blanket and blue pillow, and mad a bed on my piano bench.
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We all slept REALLY hard that night.
The moral to the story: next time we need to go to Sam’s Club, WE ARE GETTING A SITTER FOR THE DAY.