Can I have a hall pass?

I haven't meant to abandon this blog, I've just haven't used my laptop much this week.  Partially because it's not holding a charge much, but mostly because I'm cheating on it with my new phone.  In theory, I could blog from my phone, but I'm not a great writer, so I tend to edit a lot (no, really).  That would just get tedious on a wee screen.

But anyway, I've discovered I have a problem.  I probably have a lot of problems, but I have one immediate one that's been on my mind quite a bit lately.  It's silly, it's very silly, and you're going to think I'm insane, but nonetheless, it's been bugging me, so I'm going to share it with you.

I can't pee.  No, I'm not sharing some weird intimate health secret with you, and it's not that I can't pee, 'cause I can, it's that I can't find a good time to do so.  And it's only when we're out and about, not at home, believe me, my mama-martyr flag doesn't fly quite that high (oh noes, I'm so busy, I can't even pee).  Basically it boils down to a problem of logistics.  On the whole I'm pretty good at carting all three kids around, but when it comes to getting all three of us, plus our assorted gear into the bathroom for me to go, I just can't get it done.

Yes, I know the mall has a family bathroom, and I know that handicapped stalls are fantastic for bringing "bathroom helpers" with you, but neither option is working for me.  The reason?  Max.  Max knows how to open all doors.  Having to squat-run, pants around my ankles to shut a bathroom door before any small children or pets are traumatized has gotten tiring.

I used to love the stinky family bathroom at the mall because I could just put the stroller in front of the door and turn on the hand-dryer.  That used to be enough of a distraction.  Well, now Max likes to sit on the little potty and get soaking wet (when he's not climbing the stroller to get to the door).  Having to follow up a trip to the bathroom with a run to Target to buy new pants can get a little expensive.
 
And I won't even go into Molly's running bathroom commentary on volume, fuzziness and who may or may not be pooping in the other stalls.  I've gotten used to that embarrassment and know that I can just hide in the stall a few extra minutes if need be.  Can't do that once people have seen you crab-walk your half-nekkid ass to the open bathroom door.

You're wondering what I've been doing instead of going to the bathroom?  No worries, I haven't been peeing behind bushes or anything, I've just been holding it while we're out.  So, if you see me in public, feel free to offer to watch my kids for a few minutes, 'cause I've probably really gotta go!

Afternoon Delight

I went to Wal-Mart today.  I know, I know!  But I did it anyway and I'll just have to live with myself.  As we were walking in I glanced at the wizened, angry face of the Wal-Mart greeter (I rarely look them in the eye for fear of being turned to stone) and noticed that he was singing along to something on the radio.  I listened, and heard, "... sparks ignite, and the thought of rubbin' you is getting so exciting."

Now, I always feel a touch unclean when I leave Wal-Mart, but after viewing the world's second or third angriest Wal-Mart greeter singing along to the Starland Vocal Band (it is apparently possible to be angry and sing Afternoon Delight, didn't know that), I felt positively soiled.  I couldn't even use the same door

And now, of course, I can't get the song out of my head.  I've been singing this stupid song all afternoon and I'm quite alarmed at how much of the song I know.  But the worst part is that I've spread this terrible virus to my four year old.  In the midst of all of her singing and dancing and princess-ing (if you've seen her do it, you know it's a verb) I distinctly heard, "skyrockets in flight, afternoon delight."

Ugh.

At least he has good taste or oh f&*k, that's a $60 bottle of wine my toddler's manhandling!

Max is a runner.  Turn your head for one moment and odds are, he'll bolt.  It's not his best trait (also not his worst, that would probably be the biting).  In his defense, he's getting better.  There have definitely been fewer mad dashes at the park, or oh-shit moments when walking with him.  But still, I don't tend to take him anywhere without having him fully under control.  Typically this means I carry him on my back.  In a carrier, not hanging off my back hair like a gorilla or anything.  Not saying I have back hair, 'cause I don't.  Really.

Anyway, when I go to stores I typically have shit under control.  Things tend to go very well.  Our normal configuration involves baby in trusty red stroller, Max on back, Molly walking.  Well, a few weeks ago I decided to change things up when I went to New Pioneer Co-op.  I had been lulled into a false sense security by Max who had so nicely walked hand-in-hand through the mall with me earlier the same day.  Now granted, my husband was there to chase if need be, but still, Max had done so well. 

So, here's what I did.  I let Molly walk, tied Maggie up in a Mei Tai and held Max's hand and let him walk.  Once we got in the door, I realized that maybe this wasn't the best idea.  So I went back for a cart, but the door wouldn't open!  Oh well, I only needed one thing and since I had forgotten to bring snacks, I would get them some cookies (and myself a Blue Sky soda). We were only going to be there a couple of minutes.

It started going downhill almost immediately.  We hadn't even passed the produce department (right by the door) when Max was trying to eat the peaches.  The two minutes in the supplement aisle were two minutes of disaster aversion mayhem as Max decided that he really liked the bulk teas in glass bins.  Supplement in hand, it was time to move on to the cookies.

This is when it got bad.  While trying to pick out their yummy vegan cookies, Max decided it'd be awesome to spin the little snack carousel (the spinny thing that holds chips and such).  Did you know that a bag of Pirate's Booty will fly about 15 feet when flung off a snack carousel?  Who knows how far it would have flown if that pesky deli wall hadn't been in the way.


Once he had tested snack aerodynamics he turned his naughty little eye to the shelf with olive oil and balsamic vinegars.  Which would have been okay at Hy-Vee, where I could afford the destruction without a payment plan, but no, this was NewPi where $40 bottles of vinegar abound.  Fortunately we were able to make it to the check out lane without accruing any debt.

I had really thought that once we were in the check out lane that we'd be in the clear.  Unfortunately we were behind free-range chicken guy.  He and the checker were having a very in-depth discussion about raising chickens while she very, very slowly scanned his groceries (all 6 of 'em).  Seeing that we weren't going to be checking out anytime soon Max decided that it would be a good time to explore the store.

Here's a (not-so-) quick rundown of the events that transpired in the next 5 minutes (5 minutes that felt like hours):

Run #1 took Max directly down an aisle toward the wines.  Molly and I chased after him to find him inspecting a bottle of wine that cost $62.  At least he went for quality?

Back to the check-out lane.  Same cashier, same hippie.  Still talking chicken.  Clearly time for more exploring!

Run #2 took Max to his favorite section of the store.  The dairy aisle.  Max loves milk like a frat boy loves 2-for-1 drink specials.  I found him lovingly caressing a gallon of organic whole milk.  It was hard to tear him away from this one.

Back to the check-out-lane.  Are you for real, hippie?  Still, with the chickens?  At least we've moved on to the bagging portion.  Which, I'd like to point out, involved plastic bags.  New plastic bags.  Free-range chicken poser didn't even bring a re-usable bag to the co-op.

Runs #3 & 4 were quickly aborted as I mostly kept the boy's arm in a death grip.

Run #5 back toward dairy.  This time I left Molly in line with our stuff, hoping that the cashier would just ring us up as she has to have noticed all this shit going on.  I'm hard to miss!  I'm the sweaty mess running through the store with a tiny baby strapped to me in a bright red carrier!  Everyone else has noticed.  Oh, and how.  I think I'd cry right now if I thought about all the ugly looks I got when all this was going on.

Back to the check out.  Cashier tells me that my daughter was here and asks if I knew that.  Really?  Come on, you have to have noticed us in and out of your line the last few minutes.  I'm only standing 2 feet away from you!  I tell her that yes, I was aware.  She continues to stare at me and hold my grapefruit seed extract.  I finally snap at her and say, "please, just ring me up so I can get out of here!"

Finally, we pay (I had to hold Max between my legs) and get out of there, Max tucked safely under my arm so that he couldn't get away again.  I strapped the kids and myself in and cried.  Like a little bitch.  Then I ate Max's cookie.

Today was a good day*

5 ways in which my day was far more awesome than yours:

1.  I woke up to a grinning, smiley baby snuggled up beside me and coffee already made.
2.  I enjoyed a leisurely picnic lunch in a beautiful park with good friends and good conversation.
3.  Our afternoon snack was ice cream at the mall (in front of 30 kids from Diabetic Camp. Really).
4.  Afternoon story and cuddle time on the couch with 3 of my favorite people.
5.  Taco Pizza from Happy Joe's for dinner.

3 ways in which your day was head and shoulders above mine:

1.  You probably didn't have to wash spit up out of your hair.  Or out of your baby's eyelashes.  And I won't even go into what I saw the dog do with the spit up on the floor.
2.  You probably don't have sand in your bra from the sandbox at the park.
3.  You probably didn't inadvertently pick up a large "piece of lint" from the bathroom floor that was less linty and more feculent than expected.



*I am completely unable to say or think the phrase "Today was a good day" without tacking on "I didn't even have to use my A.K."  I don't think I'm the only one.

Oh, you're not joking

Today I went to Wal-Mart.  Shut up, it's not something I do often, but I needed pectin and flour and I knew they had the former.  Once I had grabbed the few things I needed (carrying more than my recommended weight limit, by the way, stupid recuperation) I went to one of the self check-outs and put my stuff on the belt right away, so as not to strain myself (again, recuperation, pity me).  The woman in front of me was just finishing up, bagging her 5 packages of bacon (no, really) when the belt with my items rolled up toward the scanner.  Instead of paying and leaving, she attempts to find a divider to put in front of my groceries.  Unfortunately there were none there, in the self check-out line.

Her:  Oh, sorry, there are no dividers, I don't want your stuff to get all mixed up with mine.
Me:   Really?  You forgot what you bought and you don't want to ring up all of my stuff as yours?
Her:  Dirty look.  Pays.  Stomps away.

Okay, yeah, I was snarky, but in my defense, I thought she was kidding, she was kind of smiling at me when she started talking to me!  Really, wouldn't you think she was kidding, too?

Netflix

This lapse in blogging was brought to you by the TV show Friday Night Lights and Kyle Chandler's hair.  I'm addicted to both.  I seriously can't finish a post until I know if Matt Saracen takes the Panthers to state.

Damn you, Netflix streaming!