True Story Tuesday is upon us! I’m betting you guys have lots of tales that qualify – you’ve probably already even blogged about them! We love reading about those amazing/hilarious/miraculous/outrageous, and (mostly) true things that have happened to you!
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This week brought to you by a proud Mommy Moment.
SHOPPING WITH TODDLERS
alternatively titled: WHEN WILL I LEARN? FOLLY #812
Apparently I’m a tough scholar. Either that, or I’m an easy sell. The siren call of a 30% off everything sale was too much to resist.
See, I don’t shop for clothes all that much. And I literally wore out the elbows of my go-to sweater after
fourteen a couple years of use (I discovered my cold elbows during a formal Division Meeting two weeks ago, ask me how fun that was).
Anyhoo… Daddy was out after one of these:
and I decided to go on the hunt for one of these:
So I packed up Itty Bit with promises of a stop at the toy store on the way home. Proud parenting moment when I couldn’t even pretend it wasn’t bribery.
Fifty OnceUponAMiracle points to those bloggy friends who are already wincing in remembrance of the utter chaos that it shopping with Itty Bit. I mean, it usually ends up as a TST, so why haven’t I learned?
The first experience at Michael’s – with the exploding craft paint.
The second tale with the mannequin victims.
The third story with the Target’s Dollar Aisle casualty.
The fourth bit of loveliness with Target’s noise ordinance.
The fifth insanity with yet another *ahem* broken Target item.
And the most recent Target experience with the foul-mouthed shopper…
There will be a pop quiz at the end of this post... (if you have any time, read the fist link – it qualifies as a Top Ten Mommy Freak-Out – guaranteed to make you feel excellent about your parenting skills)
Anyhoo, I suffer temporary amnesia and haul Itty Bit into the store.
I’ve learned to speed shop… hunt by color and “roll coverage”, grab two sizes (seriously, does anyone else boomerang between sizes all week?), stack ‘em up over my arm, and check every .27 seconds to ensure Itty Bit is within eyeshot.
Cuz LORD KNOWS what will happen if he ducks into a clothing rack and I start screaming his name while other shoppers look confused as he answers his deaf momma twenty times as I race through the store ducking to search for his feet inside displays. Not that it ever happens or anything, *ahem*.
Oh dang. I already outed myself and blogged about it. Okay fine, so maybe it happened ONCE, in my defense, it was a huge sleeping bag hanging display. UGH.
My first inkling that Itty Bit was getting close to done with the bonding time, was when I handed half of the huge “try on” stack to the employee and reminded Itty Bit, “stay close to Momma, honey”.
And with that look in his eye that spelled nothing but trouble… (what? You haven’t seen it??)
Yeah… the little dude says in his OUTSIDE VOICE:
“YOU’RE NOT MY MOMMY!”
I gasp as every head in the store turns toward the child who has apparently been abducted.
And in these last four years, I have never been more grateful to have a kid who looks so much like me.
“Yes, I am your Mommy honey… That’s not even funny”.
He giggles and dutifully follows me to the dressing room.
I effusively thank the employee who lugged the clothes in there, and tell her that he is the reason I only shop twice a year.
She cracks up and says, “No problem. I’ll put you guys in the bigger room.”
I am shucking the sweaters from their hangers and pulling them on as quickly as I can. Praying the entire time that my “does not know how to whisper” little boy does not say anything about any part of my anatomy.
I get exactly ONE sweater on, when Itty Bit says loudly:
“Mommy, I hafta go pee pee and poo poo”
Is it bad that my first thought was “Oh, so NOW I’m your Mommy?”
and my second thought was, “Can you hold it?”
“Mommy? I hafta go pee pee and poooo poooo baaaad”
(Love the emphasis on that particular bodily function).
At that point I knew half the store was thinking I was some mean kidnapping person who wouldn’t give the innocent abducted victim a potty break. I also knew that the store didn’t have a restroom and we’d have to walk outside, through the courtyard, and down a brick path to the facilities.
I am not too proud to admit that I tried on three sweaters with lightning speed. I wasn’t sure I’d have the courage to return to the store after that.
The breaking point quickly approached:
“Mommy? I’m gonna go POO POO in my pants”
Oh Lordy. I grabbed my purse, tucked Itty Bit sideways under my arm and hauled to the store exit. I didn’t even have to explain to anyone… surprise surprise?
We race to the potty, make it in time (hallelujah!) and Itty Bit asks to go to the toy store.
You know what? If he’s getting a toy, then by golly I’ve earned one too. That’s all the confidence I need to set foot back in the store.
We head back to the dressing rooms, where the same chick grins and beats me to it, “…twice a year…*giggle*”
I try on seventeen pieces of clothing in nineteen seconds, which is a record when you’re alternately dragging your peeping 4-year old back out from under the shared stall walls, and closing the door as he lets the entire store see you mid-change.
And did I even buy the sweater?
Just don’t ask.
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