Tis the season. Everyone finally finished puking and we passed the nasty bug on to some good friends. I found out that red powerade was a bad idea to give Erin to help keep her hydrated...maybe Santa will bring Emmy some new carpet for Christmas.
My holiday spirit is lacking its typical luster. The tree is set, the lights are hung and half of our glass ornaments have been shattered. I think part of my less-than-enthusiastic Christmas spirit is because its still warm out and probably that I have been covered in puke for the last week strait.
So I ventured out to Hobby Lobby yesterday to pick up some decorations and a few yards of fabric to make a Christmas present. I hate how the "hobby" part of the store is not in the "lobby"- its freaken in the way back of the store. And on top of the practical things being on the back wall they make you walk through narrow isles of ugly chickens and fake grapes - all of course are breakable.
So like any mother, I load Eliza in the cart and take a deep breath and tell Erin "Don't touch anything"! And like clockwork that small phrase triggers something in my childs brain that says GO GO GO! Before I could finsh my thought I saw Erin take off, pulling her knees to her chest, her body angeled forward and head thrown back like an Olympic 100 meted dash sprinter, her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth like some rabid animal on the prowl and her scrawny arms flailing beside her as the immense speed makes the glass ornaments hanging on the shelfs chime as she sails by coming within inches of knocking something off.
I stand there knowing I can't catch up lugging Eliza, so I wait there and contemplate how it is I don't beat my child some days and wait for the gracefulness of her feet to give way as I listen to Deck the Halls being broadcasted over the load speaker. There it is, she face plows into the tile, just barely missing a shelf full of vases and I make my move. And then I spend the next twenty minutes listening to her scream because she has to sit in the cart.
I made it out alive, with my fabric, but left my sanity somewhere in isle 5.
4 comments:
Going to the store with 2 kids is a nightmare. Prairie is a climber and while I was at the grocery store last week, she figured out how to climb out of the cart while I was loading the grocery bags into the cart after checking out, the second I don't see her, I run to the front of the store and she had run out of two sets of doors and was running into the parking lot when I got there. I felt like the world's best parent.
You have an incredible way of making a typical story very enjoyable!!
Merry Freaking Christmas to you and yours!!!
your great. i should use this in a column.
I am literally laughing out loud. You poor thing! This erases any positive child feelings I had after being smiled at by a baby at a holiday party last night.
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