Stupid blog title...better story. I know, I know....WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN EDITH?! Busy and apathetic so get off my back. I'm here now, and with something that may or may not entertain you. I've always gotten great feedback from some of my stories of particular pain on my end. When I'm in agony, it makes for popular fodder. This particular tale dates back to my first days as a mother of two. I was new at juggling a pair of tots and oh so very naive.
So there I was, my one month old boy snoozing happily in the carseat carrier (which any parent can attest are NOT light and easily maneuvered) and a happy little toddler girl bouncing around me fresh off her recent sugar high. I was rounding up the last of my errands and had saved the most detestable for last: The Grocery Store. Not FIVE MINUTES after I had entered the threshold and veered towards the produce, the nightmare began. Baby boy was awake and he was not happy. He began screaming at the top of his lungs and continued to do so for the duration of this story.
Did the fun end there? Well now, that wouldn't make for much of a story! As I finally rushed up to the check out line, eyes from all sides burning straight through me, I tried to remove the now red-faced infant STILL screaming in agony as if someone had sliced off an appendage from his carrier. Holding him with one arm, corralling the devious tot, and unloading my goods onto the conveyor proved to be a bit of a challenge. A woman came over to help me (as anyone within a mile radius could see me struggling) and I was trying to hear her over the wailing, but only caught pieces which weren't helpful anyway because they were in Spanish. While attempting to cradle and comfort the screaming (which was now only inches from my ear), my lovely daughter had somehow obtained a lollipop. The lady in front of me was scowling. "I guess I just bought her that." I looked at the cashier who looked surprised and said "I thought she was with this woman!" I tried to repay the lady and fumbled for my purse as the lady stormed off. I glared at the girl happily waving her prize around.
My items were being scanned, the boy was still screaming, but only a bit quieter than before, and I was digging through my purse when I heard a very familiar voice come over the store intercom. "Hewo? Gwandma? Are you dere? I having fun wif mama!" I looked frantically around and saw my daughter two checkout lines over speaking into a phone receiver. I abruptly handed the cashier my card and ran over to snatch the little escapee up. Upon my return the employee packing up my items had the audacity to ask, "Will you be needing help out with these today?" I could tell he immediately regretted his question when he saw the daggers in my eyes as I glared at him, sweaty, flushed, placing the screeching newborn back into the carrier.
I learned a valuable lesson that day. Having one kid is like a vacation compared to managing two of them. And that was the only and LAST time that year I took both kids to the store with me.