The Store

It’s a bird. It’s a plane. It’s…It’s a mom burning rubber in her minivan to get her child to a bathroom!

Park the van. Whip up the double stroller. Buckle in both babies. Grab two hands. Check to see if I have my van keys. Okay, Operation Commode underway.

Riiing! Just as we reach the door, of the nearest department store, my cell phone blares from the underbellies of my purse. I could have let the phone ring. But, no, I answered it, like a loyal dog.

Thankfully it was my dh, Neat Pete. Even now, as I type, I can’t even remember why he was calling. I muttered something about having a potty emergency. Molly pushed as many automatic door buttons as she could find during my 15 second conversation.

Through the open doors we flew. Passed fundraiser stuffed animals, summer sun dresses and brightly colored patio collections, we flew.

Until, I saw, an end cap with jewelry sets. Oh look, something shiny, I brought us all to a stop.

“Mo-om! Don’t doddle!” urged Ryan. (Where have I heard this before? At least I know something I say makes it into his memory banks!)

Leisure shopping is not in my vocabulary.  Plus, the bathroom beckoned us from the back of the store. The jewelry sets left my attention, as quickly as they had gathered it, and off we went, in search of the bathroom.

I accepted help, to open the bathroom door, from a customer service clerk. So, humbling, I promise you.

The girls and I waited for Ryan, who is now happily situated in a stall. Each and every woman, that passes in and out of the door,  strikes up a conversation or tosses out fleeting inquiries about my family.

“Are those all yours?” they cry. “You must be so busy!” they claim. “I could never do that!” they admit. “Are they identical?” they prod. “I knew twins in my graduating class!” they add.

“It’s a lot of fun!” I respond. I feel like telling them I also have a 5 year old boy, but he’s is pooping in the stall next to you, but I don’t. Cause, I’m sane.

“How old is big sister?” they beg of Molly. They of course are met with a blank stare, filled with wonder. I can see her wheels cranking, Why do all these strange women want to know my age?

To which, I say, “she’ll be 3 in June”.

That’s all it took. Molly began whining and scrambling for the door. I knew my patience was getting thin. I sent a how are you doing pal? over the stall door. He was almost done.

Almost done, isn’t done, when your a 2 2/3 years old middle sister, waiting in a bathroom for too long!

She melted into a whimpering puddle next to my leg. At the same moment, I remembered, I had store credit that would expire unless I used it by, of course, that very day.

Back to the jewelry department!

Part 4 – coming soon

Love,
Jess

My days are all blending together. Thank goodness for my breakfast meal plan or I’d have to really question what day I’m living in.

Parks, meals, tears, farts, laughs about farts, more meals, toys, worship, books, worries, prayers, kisses, sleep, putting sleepy kids back to bed after sneaking in my bed, folding oh.my.word. the folding, joys, finances, time shared…

You get the idea.

I have big mushy life ingredients that mash together in a soup of treasured memories, present day routine & dreams for the future. Fluid yet chunky & good for the soul. Yes, I did just compare my life to soup. Can we move on now? Okay.

Some days stand out. You’d think it was the important days like the State Fair or Christmas. But, it’s always the ordinary days that stick with me.

• Like the time we declared it a pajama day and went to bed in the same p.j.s that we had on all day.
• When Molly found the tooth paste and used it as “paint” all over the bathroom walls, floors and doors.
• Or the time we spent every quarter we find in the van to buy ice cream cones at McDonald’s.

Yesterday was one such day. It started like any typical day (see the beginning of this post).

Then, we went upstairs to begin weekly allowance earning chores.

Ryan got right to work. Molly wandered in and out of the rooms, helping with chores, whenever she felt like it was her turn to use the squirt bottle. The babies slept.

Bathroom clean. Check. Bed made and stuffed animals straightened. Check. Laundry put away. Check. Extra helper chore. Check.

Next, it was time for errands.

After the babies were awake and fed again, we scurried toward the van in five different directions.

1. Ryan went straight for his bicycle and rode around the driveway.
2. Molly tried to find her shoes, bless her, she could only find one shoe of every pair she had.
3. Claire rolled around on a blanket in the entryway.
4. Leah rested, next to Claire, trying to put her thumb into her sister’s mouth.
5. I went to the kitchen, even though I had declared it was already time to leave,  to pack a lunch and pour more bottles. I had just realized it was already noon. Hungry babies and kids + errands in the van = not bliss.

In the van. Check. Can I please put “Get In The Van” on my to do list just so I can cross it off?  WAIT! Where’s my coffee? Oh yea, my to-go mug was on a shelf in the bathroom. Not sure when or why it was put there. None the less, I fly back upstairs to grab it, then, of course, reheat it in the microwave.

Two bank trips. Drive through, of course. The first bank was out of stickers and suckers. Really? Where is the manager? Is there not a Walgreen’s down the street? Buy some. Customer service these days. Of course, I don’t complain to the kids.

Instead, I try to bellow to the back of the van, some lesson to Molly about not getting a sticker because, “Little mouths shouldn’t say big hateful words!” (like, “I hate my car seat!”) Meanwhile, telling Ryan that the next bank will probably have a sucker for him, without letting Molly realize the only reason she’s not getting a sticker or sucker is because the first bank was out off them.

The second bank dutifully sent two suckers through the tube. I was sweet-talked into handing them over with promises from my kids to, “Never be mean their whole lives, to me or each other, ever again!”

Off to the park…part 2 coming soon.

Love,

Jess