Saturday, March 31, 2012

Just Speak Calmly....

Yesterday I had to make a trip to the craft store to replenish some supplies for a batch of jewelry I'm making for market.  Usually not a big deal, half hour trip, even if I have a bunch of babies in tow.

Most of the time when I go to a store with lots of little ones I get lots of "your brave" or "oh, dad is babysitting today" and honestly a lot of "wow, your kids are very well behaved" This was not one of those days.

I knew I was pushing it.  The kids are all getting over sore throats and sniffles, they were tired, but I really needed to get some stuff and I was already out after dropping Buggy off at dance so I went for it.

I was in the bead isle when things started to go wrong.  I had just found the clearance section and was rooting through the bargains like I was looking for truffles and Jack-Jack started crying.  Bitsy had taken his bottle away. Jack-Jack was in the child seat part of the cart and Bitsy was in the basket, Cardo Man was walking; and I had already told him about 21 times not to stand on the edge of the cart, he could tip it over. 

Anyway I told Bitsy to give Jack-Jack is bottle back and she did, after she used her teeth to rip the nipple off.  I didn't catch is little act of defiance until Jack-Jack started crying again when he dumped the entire contents of the bottle in his own face, soaking himself and the floor under us.

I say, "Bitsy, that is not nice, give me the rest of Jack-Jacks bottle."

"no! you can't say it to me!"

"Bits, give it to me please" (just speak calmly Capable)

"NO!"



At this point she throws the nipple at me and a bottle of red paint I had put in the cart earlier and begins to howl!

Keep in mind that Jack-Jack is continuing to scream his little head off because he is soaked in milk and his precious nipple is missing.

It is now that Cardo Man switches from "Can we buy this? Can we buy this? Can we buy this?" to "Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad...."

"Cardo wait a minute..."

Cardo bouncing up and down on his toes "DAD, MY POOP IS COMING OUT!"

Really?



I have a milk soaked screamer, a paint throwing screamer and one who's "poop is coming out"  and a extremely young sales associate asks  "Hi, can I help you find something?'

Yes, yes you can ,I need about 10 more pounds of patience and you might need to get a mop because we just spilled milk all over the floor....and my boy taking a dump next to the milk puddle....Sorry.....smile.

As we are running to the bathroom Bitsy's tantrum has continued to escalate to the point where she starts to slap at her own face so I need to restrain her hands.  We make it to the bathroom before the poop comes out but now we are in a strange bathroom and the little prairie dog has gone back into the burrow, ugh.  It is really echoey in the bathroom and Bits has now switched from a wailing cry to just a wahhhh, wahhhh, wahhh cry of rage.  Jack decides that sounds pretty cool in the bathroom so he joins in. 

Cardo man finally does his business but now Jack-Jack is trying to stand up in the cart and fall to the floor.  So I end up with Jack-Jack over one arm and balancing cardo over one knee while I wipe his hiney with the other hand.  (note: at home he can wipe his own hiney but this public toilet was just too far off the ground and the seat was too wide for him to do it without touching the toilet seat to prevent falling in, and I have a problem with little hands on public toilets seats, so I did the wiping, don't judge....there are germs!) Bitsy, still yelling.  While am washing my hands I see Cardo in the mirror going to stand on the edge of the cart, AGAIN!  I seriously told him about a gazillion times not to.  I whip out my super ninja moves as the cart starts to go over, and catch the basket of toppling babies.  This scares Jack-Jack and he is once again crying, and I am getting there myself.

We come out of the bathroom and it appears they have assigned the young sales associate to follow the crazy guy with the yelling kids through the store.  This just firmed my resolve to finish this shopping trip no matter what.

15 minutes later with kids still yelling we head to the register to check out, you know the only register open with the brand new cashier who can't figure out how to ring the coupon and then calls the manager who is on break so you get to know your line neighbors, yeah that register. 

 My kids have been yelling for about 20 minutes in this store, still are yelling, and the people in line are thinking "Just get out of here!"  The group of three elderly asian ladys behind me are shaking their heads and pointing fingers, there faces are pity, dissapointment, and angry accusing shame.....stop looking at me!

The general consensus of the store staff and shoppers is clearly this guy is not qualified.

That's when its my turn to pay, the cashier asks are you a member of our rewards program?  No, I am not.  She gives me the little talk, I say OK, sign me up (you do get a coupon for $5 off).

She asks something else, Bitys is still yelling so  I say sorry what?  Oh, email address.

Now she can't hear me and says sorry would you repeat that I didn't catch that email...

So I stand there with milk spilled down the front of me, breaking a stress sweat from the screaming and the rest of the line just wanting me to go away.  I pause, look at her and then all the customers behind me watching my little struggle; and in a very loud,  but very calm voice I say;

"Its  CAPABLE......FATHER......AT.....G......MAIL DOT COM."

Cashier, raised eyebrow.

Me, "well, most days anyway." 

And collect my $5 coupon.


4 comments:

  1. You crack me up! I love reading your blog. Keep the day to day stories coming because they are so humorous and they just make my day.

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  2. I can take a breath of fresh air now... Brandon has bad days with little ones too! I was feeling like a super bad mom lately what's the word...very "uncapable"! But, you still did better than I would have done, I would have been in the puddle of milk crying with Bitsy pouring the red paint on top of me. I'm sure of it.

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  3. I very much agree with Anonymous.

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