The Day I Almost Made Good on My Threat to Sell Them to the Gypsies
My trip with the kids to the grocery store on Friday was a brief glimpse of what Hell is like. The twins were hitting and smooshing each other in the cart, screaming and crying and laughing. Alex entertained himself by asking me (very quietly, so I had to stop, bend down and listen each time) such questions as, "Mom, why isn't fur blue?" Once or twice I'm okay with, but by the tenth time in as many minutes that I had to do this, with the screaming toddlers to boot, I was about to blow.
I noticed the store was selling kid's umbrellas, and since I know spring's rainy weather is about to hit, I picked up one for each of my sweet somethings. Of course, at the time, I wasn't thinking about the fact that I had effectively just armed the twins. I got thwacked in the face a few times and cruised to the checkout.
Once outside, the twins had to have their umbrellas up, because Alex had his up. So I had to basically do a backbend while steering the cart through the parking lot, to avoid getting jabbed in the eye again. And of course, I couldn't see a damn thing, so I used my keyring to set off my alarm and locate my car.
Once there, I opened the hatch, loaded in some groceries, and said to Alex, "Okay , Buddy, in you go." He obediently started to climb up. The twins were acting up again, so it took me a second or two to hear a woman saying, so softly, "Excuse me. Excuse me?"
"What? What!?" I looked up and saw two women sitting in the front seat.
"Ah, I think you have the wrong car," she said, almost apologetically.
Sure enough, I was loading my food and my kids into someone else's car.
My car, the same make and model as hers, was in the next aisle over, parked nose to nose with hers.
I couldn't think of anything else to say, so I stammered, "Oh. Sorry! Want some groceries? Ha ha!"
"Um, no thanks, we're going in right now to get ours." At least she was laughing.
"Oh, okay," I said. "Want some kids? Ha ha!" I looked down, and Alex just scowled at me.
She climbed out of the car, well dressed and about my age, with a wistful look on her face. "I'd love some kids like yours."
She wished me a good day, and set off to the store. I watched her go in, then looked back at my kids, suddenly grateful I have them to drive me crazy.
My trip with the kids to the grocery store on Friday was a brief glimpse of what Hell is like. The twins were hitting and smooshing each other in the cart, screaming and crying and laughing. Alex entertained himself by asking me (very quietly, so I had to stop, bend down and listen each time) such questions as, "Mom, why isn't fur blue?" Once or twice I'm okay with, but by the tenth time in as many minutes that I had to do this, with the screaming toddlers to boot, I was about to blow.
I noticed the store was selling kid's umbrellas, and since I know spring's rainy weather is about to hit, I picked up one for each of my sweet somethings. Of course, at the time, I wasn't thinking about the fact that I had effectively just armed the twins. I got thwacked in the face a few times and cruised to the checkout.
Once outside, the twins had to have their umbrellas up, because Alex had his up. So I had to basically do a backbend while steering the cart through the parking lot, to avoid getting jabbed in the eye again. And of course, I couldn't see a damn thing, so I used my keyring to set off my alarm and locate my car.
Once there, I opened the hatch, loaded in some groceries, and said to Alex, "Okay , Buddy, in you go." He obediently started to climb up. The twins were acting up again, so it took me a second or two to hear a woman saying, so softly, "Excuse me. Excuse me?"
"What? What!?" I looked up and saw two women sitting in the front seat.
"Ah, I think you have the wrong car," she said, almost apologetically.
Sure enough, I was loading my food and my kids into someone else's car.
My car, the same make and model as hers, was in the next aisle over, parked nose to nose with hers.
I couldn't think of anything else to say, so I stammered, "Oh. Sorry! Want some groceries? Ha ha!"
"Um, no thanks, we're going in right now to get ours." At least she was laughing.
"Oh, okay," I said. "Want some kids? Ha ha!" I looked down, and Alex just scowled at me.
She climbed out of the car, well dressed and about my age, with a wistful look on her face. "I'd love some kids like yours."
She wished me a good day, and set off to the store. I watched her go in, then looked back at my kids, suddenly grateful I have them to drive me crazy.
posted by The June Cleaver Diaries at 5:16 PM
6 Comments:
When my daughter was a baby, I used to meet a couple of friends at the mall and we'd walk around with our three babies in their three strollers, attracting admiring glances from many senior citizens. One woman came up to admire the babies and said, quite sadly, "I was never able to have any of my own. Enjoy every minute." (All senior citizens say to enjoy every minute, and of course we don't.) It hadn't occurred to me before then how the pain of infertility is something that lasts your whole life.
Three kids with umbrellas and you with no Margarita in sight. Definitely a nightmare. Having said that - THAT was funny!
I meant to add that I've been in both places. I've been the infertile woman looking whistfully at the crazy lady with the rowdy kids and I've also been the crazy lady with the rowdy kid. The former is definitely harder to live with. And remembering that makes those grocery store trips a bit easier.
I've tried to put groceries into the wrong car before, but--luckily--it was my kids who stopped me.
Oh yeah. Umbrellas and kids under the age of about 13 are a bad combination. I got one for the BoyChild, it was a really cute little beach chair with an umbrella designed to offer shade with the perfect hole to hold the unbrella. It disappeared very quickly from my household because it almost as quickly became a lethal weapon.
i tried selling mine to the gypsies too, about a month ago...but there were no takers. :)
and i knew, even in my joking post about my exasperation, that i was damn lucky...that many would trade places with me in the blink of an eye.
your post does a beautiful job of covering both sides of the story. well written.
first time here, will be back.
Post a Comment
<< Home