Yesterday I took my kids grocery shopping. If you want an adrenaline rush, skip the bungee jumping or luging- just take my three kids to Walmart! There is ALWAYS someone who melts down during shopping (hint: it's not me!) Add this stress to the dirty looks I get while toting around a shrieking toddler/infant/both, and I'm either burning calories at lightning speed or I'm setting myself up for coronary failure. I once had an elderly woman ask me: "Is that your child?" I felt like saying, "No, I just randomly bring screaming kids that aren't mine around here, just for the fun of it!" I now treat shopping for food like an obstacle course, and I'm racing against myself and the time it took me before. In and out in 45 minutes-that's a record!
Anyway so after I pull into our apartment complex and park, I arrange for Swaylynn to take Hailley up the stairs while I get the groceries up. Our apartment is on the second floor, so this is also an exercise in speed: hurry up and get my stuff upstairs before Hailley notices the gate is down and wanders over to the staircase (and I have a heart attack!) Sway is an excellent helper, and usually occupies her little sister while I do the heavy lifting. Yesterday, however, Sway came out after me because she had to bring in her backpack. I was loading up my arms with bags from the trunk already-as many as my noodle biceps can handle. Sway comes around the other side of the car and says to me, "Can you please put my coat on your head and carry it in? My arms are full." I look at my daughter. She has her backpack and her coat, both of which she could put on and carry inside, and she wants me to help her?
"Sway look at all the stuff I'm carrying!" I huff as I turn to go inside. No way I'm adding to the teetering load I now am balancing. This is what I hear behind me, coming from the mouth of my eight-year old:
"Oh, you are fine. That's what you always tell me when I have a bunch of stuff to carry, so I guess now it's my turn to tell you- you are fine!"
I laughed all the way inside and up the stairs. I guess I had that coming.
Showing posts with label shopping. Show all posts
Showing posts with label shopping. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Are You Coming Home Honey?
Ah, the weekend. Saturdays are made for sleeping in (7:30), relaxing (laundry) and...marker all over Hailley's face? I opened her bedroom door to see her sitting on Sway's chair pillow, decorating her face and the pillow with blue marker. My little artist. And it was only 8 am.
After the art fiasco, the rest of my day went as follows:
The house was a disaster. I started cleaning immediately. Hailley peed on the living room table (potty training is fun!) Swaylynn, my 8 year-old, started to melt down around 11 because I let her stay up too late the night before. Being the genius I am, I put her down for a nap with Hailley. This meant they spent their quiet time fighting. Maximus, my 4 month-old, was gassy and therefore irritable and refused to nap when the girls did. This meant I also did not get a nap in. By the time Blake came home at 3:30, I was ready to escape.
Now my husband loves me and wants me to be happy. However, if I don't declare some "me" time then it just doesn't happen. Men are so different-they take care of themselves first and everyone else comes after that. It is not that Blake is cruel or overly selfish, its just the way he is programmed. This is why when he sauntered home finally, I handed him the baby and said, "Well, I've got a few errands to run, so I'm leaving." I had no idea where I was going to go or what I was going to do, but I figured I'll get to that after I get the heck out of the house.
"Okay honey!" was his cheerful response. I quickly explained that everyone was hungry and grouchy, and I headed out the door without even changing out of my Mom At Work outfit. I had escaped! I went straight to the mall. I never go shopping. For a person who rarely goes anywhere without diapers and goldfish snacks, I felt like I was on vacation. My plan was to window shop mostly. Oh, I had a fantastic time. So much fun in fact, trying on dresses and drooling over shoes and treating myself to a new necklace, that I never even looked at my cell phone to check the time. Finally the high started to wear off and I heard my cell phone chirp with a new text message. My husband had written, Do you plan to come home honey?
Of course I planned to come home. Eventually.
After the art fiasco, the rest of my day went as follows:
The house was a disaster. I started cleaning immediately. Hailley peed on the living room table (potty training is fun!) Swaylynn, my 8 year-old, started to melt down around 11 because I let her stay up too late the night before. Being the genius I am, I put her down for a nap with Hailley. This meant they spent their quiet time fighting. Maximus, my 4 month-old, was gassy and therefore irritable and refused to nap when the girls did. This meant I also did not get a nap in. By the time Blake came home at 3:30, I was ready to escape.
Now my husband loves me and wants me to be happy. However, if I don't declare some "me" time then it just doesn't happen. Men are so different-they take care of themselves first and everyone else comes after that. It is not that Blake is cruel or overly selfish, its just the way he is programmed. This is why when he sauntered home finally, I handed him the baby and said, "Well, I've got a few errands to run, so I'm leaving." I had no idea where I was going to go or what I was going to do, but I figured I'll get to that after I get the heck out of the house.
"Okay honey!" was his cheerful response. I quickly explained that everyone was hungry and grouchy, and I headed out the door without even changing out of my Mom At Work outfit. I had escaped! I went straight to the mall. I never go shopping. For a person who rarely goes anywhere without diapers and goldfish snacks, I felt like I was on vacation. My plan was to window shop mostly. Oh, I had a fantastic time. So much fun in fact, trying on dresses and drooling over shoes and treating myself to a new necklace, that I never even looked at my cell phone to check the time. Finally the high started to wear off and I heard my cell phone chirp with a new text message. My husband had written, Do you plan to come home honey?
Of course I planned to come home. Eventually.
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