A word about this morning

It was a horrible morning.

My wallet was gone.  You decided to be up cage fighting before dawn.  Before Dawn.

There were glimmers of hope.

Your father watched you in hopes I slept in against the noise.  (But that’s his superhero ability.)  I got some emails from some of my favorite people.  It turned out I left my wallet at the last store we were at yesterday, but really that would be your fault.

Then I took you out of the house.

I should have known it was a bad idea.

It took my twenty minutes to get shoes and socks and jackets on you.  By the way, jackets are not optional when your mom declares you have to wear them.  And Tornado S, it’s not funny to keep choosing the other jacket from the one that’s in my hand.

I nearly had to drag you across the parking lot to get to the store with my wallet.  Then you danced merrily as I talked to three different people in search for my wallet I was told was there 30 minutes before.  At least, they had it.  Then I dragged you back across the parking lot. Tornado E begging for lunch at a “restaurant” doesn’t work if you’re being a pain in the butt.

Then I needed to go to the grocery store.  Then my brain must have stopped working because I also decided I might as well hit the dollar store before the grocery store because they’re right next to each other.

Which worked out well for the first two minutes.

Then you had to sword fight with the candy-filled plastic candy canes, ask for different ornaments, and innocently suggest we go down the aisle with the picture frames and candles.

I should have known better.  The aisle led to the toys.  I can only thank God that I can say “We’ll put it on your list” because it makes you leave faster than a no.  We were still there too long.  And Tornado E, what is it with you and the most disgusting, ugliest toys?

At least you both we’re adorable for the cashier as you entertained her with pirate stories.

The grocery store wasn’t so bad at first either.  You helped me find apples, cucumbers, and onions.  You even liked the broccoli idea.

Then we got to pick out dried fruit.  Then Tornado E decided, after we made our decision on the dried plums you both just had to have, that he wanted dried cranberries.  Next time, little dude.  Then the whining began.  For three aisles.  Enough for a woman to shoot me a dirty look that I was happily willing to return because it was the third aisle.  Like she knew that my kids acted this way all the time.  He’s whining, annoying true, but he’s not stealing toys.  And Tornado S, running around, not standing in one place, must move at all times.  Ah, good times.

The whining settled to a dull roar as I finished the grocery shopping.  Could you both not take off at the last five feet before we get to the cookie stand with blinking lights?  Because you almost knocked down some old women to get there, trapping me behind a line of carts.  I hate that.

Tornado E, the answer is no.  Again.  No to the sting cheese.  No to that cheese.  No to the chips.  No to the cookies.  No to the doughnuts.  No to the Christmas decorations.  No to the toy car.  No.  No.  No.

Then the dire warning about listening to me, standing still, being good in the checkout lane fell out of your ears as we crossed the aisle to the checkout.

Just as you were about to act out, Tornado E engaged the woman in front in a conversation, who said “Are you listening to your mommy?”  You became quiet and intent on the woman.  Then Tornado E had a nice conversation with her. Tornado S stayed by me. Tornado E helped me with emptying out the cart.  I swear the woman was a saint.

Of course as soon as she left, you tried to follow her.  My attention was torn between the cashier and keeping you in the store.  As we left, I discovered “the treat” I was trying to brag you with, the cardboard gingerbread house, had been moved.  It was gone.  The whining started again as I demanded you climb on the cart, keeping your feet up.

At least you snacked as I loaded the car.  But if tomorrow is anything like today, I’m packing up, and you’re living with your grandparents.

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9 Responses to “A word about this morning”

  1. theycallmejane Says:

    Ah yes, days like these. Good times, good times. It’s why I ALWAYS (well, almost always) shop alone – for my sanity and for the sanity of everyone around me. (Did you find your wallet? Intact? I sure hope so!)

  2. Court Says:

    Oh I so relate. I had no idea just how incredibly hard it is with two. And two and pregnant!! I’ll say a prayer for you for peace.

  3. Court Says:

    …and i loved how you stressed “before dawn” instead of “cage fighting.”

  4. parenting BY dummies Says:

    Mornings like these suck ass. And, taking the dudes to the grocery store is possibly my least favorite activity on the planet. I can name at least 10 to 15 mundane, disgusting, exhausting, and/or annoying things I’d rather do instead. I avoid it like the Swine. Then how come I found myself there, all three in tow, just yesterday? Bloody. Nightmare. I’m feeling you on this one, girl!

  5. insider53 Says:

    Maybe he is acting out because he is a little jealous of Mom and the baby? Sorry you had such a hard time.

  6. TheKitchenWitch Says:

    Grocery shopping with toddlers is the 8th ring of Hell. You have my complete sympathy.

  7. faemom Says:

    jane~ But shopping alone is so boring. 😉 (Yup, I lost my wallet at the last store I was at on Monday, due to having to do some quick supervision of the boys.)
    Court~ You’re new. You’ll get the hang of it soon. 😉 I’m resolved to the cage fighting, which I can referee as long as I have some sleep too.
    pBd~ My grandma told me that when she had young toddlers in tow that grocery stores routinely had day care centers for the sanity of the shoppers and the workers. Why did they ever stop that?
    insider~ It’s quite possible, and I’ll keep on eye on it. I just assumed he was having an off day.
    KTW~ No kidding. They’re too big to be in the cart and too little to be left at home.

  8. Gibby Says:

    Good lord, mornings stink, don’t they? And when those mornings trickle down to the rest of the day, well…sigh.

    So glad this day is over for you!!

  9. faemom Says:

    Unfortunately, Evan has decided to keep his I’m-not-listening-to-mommy attitude. Fun times.

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