Time to kill

"Let's just kill some time at Target.", I said. "I have a few things to pick up and the kids can check out the toys." I thought... "It'll give us something to do..." phfffffft!!!!!



Get to Target. Not so bad. Benjamin didn't cry the whole way.



Put my wrap on, pop Benito in. Allie and Martin hold are holding onto the basket as I cruise into the store like a mom who's got her sh*t together.



Automatic doors part, and ahhhhh the cool sanctuary of Starbucks, gadgets, toys and shopping!



Allie sees the food court. Eyes bug. Martin chimes in. "I hungry."



No problem. I've got this. Walk up to the counter. Order two organic mac 'n cheese meals for the kids with milk and applesauce. Done. Mom of the year!



Scratch that. They're out of milk and applesauce. Icee and cookies. What was the point of the "organic" mac n' cheese, then, you ask. I have no clue.



Grab the napkins and straws. Notice that the lady next to me is staring, mouth open in the direction of my kids. Martin is standing on the stool. Allie is sitting on the table.



Damn it.



Stay cool. "Hey you guys, sit in your chairs, please." "Mommy, is coming with lunch." (Why I talk in third person to my kids, I have NO idea. Really, someone please tell me why I do this, because I try to stop, since I sound like an idiot. But I just can't....Mommy says. )



This lady is taking f.o.r.e.v.e.r. to heat up the mac 'n cheese. Really how long can that take?



Ok. I underestimated.



Got the grub and the kids are kinda sitting and eating. I'm bribing them with the cookie. Am I an idiot. Really? What's the point of bribing them to eat MAC N CHEESE, and with a cookie? Is one really better than the other? Oh, well they do have the Icee to balance it out! gah. Whatever. Martin eats and I give him the cookie. Allie doesn't eat so I stick with my threat and don't give her the cookie and we're off to shop.



Benjamin starts to fuss a bit, so I start the mommy rock. While walking. Yeah you can see it now can't you. I'm pushing a basket and with every step I throw in two extra bounces. Step, bounce, bounce, push. Step, bounce, bounce, push. Cute.



Allie decides she wants to eat now. Throw her in the basket. Step, bounce, bounce, push....urgh puuuush. Step...



Martin is so into his cookie (or carb coma) that he runs into a display and drops the dang thing! Holy hell, the world just ended. Calm him down.



Some, probably very nice, Target employee sees Martin crying over the cookie and says, "Aw daddy, you're breakin' my heart." Yes. Nice man. Who apparently doesn't have kids and therefore doesn't know that you absolutely DO NOT talk to a kid in the middle of a tantrum. Never. Ever.



Go Directly to Jail! Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect $200.



Calm him down again. Give him Allie's cookie. Promise Allie a bigger cookie, ONLY if she eats her cheesy blob.



Race through isles and throw shit in the basket. May or may not be on my list.



Head for the toys to let the kids play like I promised. Ahh we're safe.



Kids play. Push buttons. Dinosaur roars. Every one's happy.



2 seconds later... Benjamin is not happy.



Ok. This is a grrreat opportunity for me to practice nursing in public, standing up, while watching a two and three year old, discreetly. (ha, yeah it was hard to even get through typing that). No problem. I have my wrap to cover me a bit, the big dinosaur is distracting the kids and Benito is big enough to not suffocate in my bosoms now.



Hey, I'm doing it. Not so bad. Except for the little teeny bopper couple who thinks it's cute to hang out in the toys while flirtting like a bunch of peacocks in heat.



Move to the next isle. They follow. Move back. Follow. Move two over, leaving my kids behind. They freakin' follow. WTH?? Are they playing chase? Think about just pulling Benjamin off and scaring the hell out of them! Go back for my kids.


For the LOVE of all things holy... what in the world is that? Did my... what the... yes....dammit, my dress just broke. How does that even happen?? Oh yeah, I know. Could it be because the little turds following me around to catch a glimpse of my chi chis, forced me to toss around my little Benito like a high school cheerleader which in turn pushed my poor, little, already really stressed out, spaghetti straps to their limit? Stupid kids.

Tuck, tie and hide the strap the best I can while still nursing Benjamin. Hope my other two are still in the store. Good. Giganto dino is still amusing them. Well that and that nice old man.

Oh God no. For the love of all sane mothers... please tell me that Allie's not holding herself. "Mom... I gotta go to the potty."

"Of course you do, honey."

Pop boob back into to broken dress. Pry two year old away from toy dinosaur. Screaming. Crying. Bring toy dinosaur. Run to the front of the store with basket, baby half way in the wrap, two year old crying while dragging dinosaur, and three year old hopping and holding.

We make it.

Standing in the bathroom nursing Benjamin. Martin is playing on the floor with the dinosaur. (I know some of you are saying.... Crisa, you're not supposed to take unpurchased items into the restroom. Yeah, well I'm also not supposed to feed my baby where people poop or let my kids play on the floor of a public restroom... shit happens. No, really I mean in this case... shit happens)

Come on, Allie. Let's be quick. Dangit, I should have never hoped, thought, wished for that. Today is obviously let's-laugh-at-Crisa day.

Excuse me... Sorry... Pardon me... No we're not waiting... REALLY???? Did everyone in Target have to come use the bathroom at THIS VERY MOMENT. What does it matter now? I've already flashed my boob to at least four people. (In case you're counting, 1 and 2 were the teeny boppers and 3 and 4 were the old man and his kid in the dinosaur isle) Martin's probably already eaten germs off the floor that haven't even been discovered yet and God only knows what Allie's doing in that stall that's taking so long.

Grab kids. Wash hand. Get OUT of the bathroom.

Go back to the toys. Drop off the dinosaur. Martin throws a fit. Toss him in the basket. Head over to the grocery section for a few more things on my list that I lost.

Toss more crap in the basket. Miss Martin. Wait... what's that? Dear lord in heaven above, you didn't bless us with a Texas thunderstorm, did you? Yes, yes you did. And yes, it's so loud I can hear it in the middle of the store with a two year old screaming in my ear.

Start chanting my new mantra. Well not new, borrowed. (I'm reading Eat, Pray Love right now)

Yes We Can! (Step, bounce, bounce, push...)
Yes We Can! (Step, bounce, bounce, push...)
Yes We Can! (Step, bounce, bounce, push...)

I make it to check out.

I'm making taking a stand. If those idiots are going to put all that sweet, yummy, colorful crap, at a three year old's eye level and within arms reach, then I'm not going to flinch when I put the open bag of M&Ms back on the shelf. There I said it and yes I did.

Pack up all our... well I don't even know what's in my bags but we packed it all up and head for the car.

Rain washes off cookie, mac n' cheese, bathroom nasties and candy.

Kids are asleep.

All is right in the world, again.