Hair Products & Hot Moments

Once again, I found myself in a pickle of a situation at the grocery store, with my kids. (If you ever need good material, you know where to go...)

I've had a certain personal item on my grocery list now for a few weeks. I've had difficulty locating it around town because the nearest grocer caters to retirees and therefore, baby food and birth control are not on the shelves. Due note: Preparation H, Poli-Grip and Prunes are always well stocked! So, I FINALLY made it to the other grocer across town in hopes they would carry my necessities (more specifically, the latter of the two aforementioned needs).

Ana's delight in riding in the child's seat at the front of the cart is worth any form of bribery to get Shelby to ride or walk somewhere else. You should see the littlest one beam with pride while perched atop her cart. I convinced Shelby to ride in the larger part of the basket and to make her roost more comfortable, I headed towards the beer aisle first. FYI: 12-packs make the perfect in-cart bench for toddlers. But, you didn't hear this from me. Nevermind those silly graphics printed inside the cart where they show children riding on or inside the basket with a giant X through the picture. Those artists OBVIOUSLY never had the pleasure of grocery shopping with toddlers. Anything goes for survival.

My next stop was the personal item and then I could quickly move on to my normal grocery shopping where I would bury it at the bottom of the cart. Quickly tossing the box at Shelby's feet I hurried to distract everyone with something else...um, toilet paper, um, super glue, um....

"Mommy?" Shelby was hoisting the purple box into the air, "Is this for your hair??"

At this particular moment, it seemed the aisle we were standing in became extraordinarily popular, and I felt like I could read every shopper's mind..."OH, now that's appropriate, Trojans, a twelve pack and TWO kids. She's probably pregnant AGAIN! What a trashy mommy."

My face was burning with embarrassment and all I could muster was, "Uh-huh, Shelby, now put those down and let's go look at the sippy cups."

But she was not deterred in the slightest.

Holding her prize ever higher, she raised her voice, "I want some of this for me! Can I have some, too?"

"Please put those down, Shelby," I begged, frantically pushing the now impossible-to-steer cart around the aisles as fast as possible.

"LOOK, sippy cups!!" I enthusiastically pointed out. "Let's get some new ones for you!"

She turned her head, only lowering the treasure to her lap, and eyed the sippies. I willed the box to slip down to the bottom of the cart but my superpower eye rays were useless.

"Ma'm, may I help you find something?" an elderly employee with blue-white hair asked.

Before I could excuse her away Shelby turned to the woman, and in ssslllllooooowww mmmootttiiiiooonnn, I watched her, rraaiissee thhee TTROJJJAANNSS aanndd sssaaayy, "I want more of these for my hair."



I Chose The Ditch

"Hey, G, what are you doing wielding a pick axe this time of night? We weren't expecting to see you doing this job!" joked my new neighbors, who were out for a family stroll at sunset.
I had spent the last 20 minutes wildly swinging shovels and a pick axe in an attempt to carve out a trench for our new water line to our old house (which conveniently broke this weekend).
I wiped the sweat from my brow-simultaneously smearing mud across my face-and grinned, "I traded with John: two kids and the dinner dishes for his ditch digging job."
We all laughed, but I laughed the hardest because for the last twenty minutes, I had toiled away to background noise: shrieks of frustration and crying from somewhere inside the house. Not my problem, nobody knows where I am, and I detected an edge in John's voice as he soothed them and tended to their many, many needs. Sweet music to my ears.
I think I'll dig to China.


Shout Out

It's been a sporadic kind of a summer this year. I've given up my sanity (and my sleep), strapped on my jet pack, and accepted my role as super parent. Pulling Shelby out of summer preschool was by far the most asinine move I made. Okay, now I'm home 7 days a week with no help, no husband, my babysitter moved away...just shackle me in a straight jacket and take me away.
Well, the point of all this ranting is A: I'm still alive, by some miracle and B: I haven't been as loyal to my blog as I would like to be.
Nonetheless, it is so nice to hop onto this site, read your comments and see that "Somebody still likes me, they really like me!"
I just want to say thanks for stickin' with me. I raise my mid-morning cocktail and toast all of you. To preschool! To Baby Einstein! To Vanilla Absolut! To loyal friends and readers! To sanity-hovering just out of reach!