It all started this morning around 8:30 AM, when my mom called. She wanted me to go with her to get a new pair of running shoes. Simple enough right? And since, we were about half way to being presentable for the day (children fed, a little sticky faced and still in pjs, but I'd call that about 1/2 way) and I haven't had a new pair of running shoes since BEFORE I was pregnant with Madelyn, my 6 month old, I figured it was long over due. So I said, "why yes, of course we'll go with you." (or something like that anyway) And then it began...
First cleanup, teeth brushed, hair brushed, clothes on, and then the packing of belongings: bottles, diapers, baby food, change of clothes (never can be too careful, even if you think it's a short trip. My daughter has sniper aim when it comes her bodily fluids. No matter how perfect you think you've got that diaper on there, she possesses the unique ability to somehow make a mockery of it and a mess of her clothes in the long run. I promise you, I've had to change her clothes and NOT her diaper before. How is this possible? I have no idea and am not even sure if NASA scientists could figure it out, but if they could perhaps it could somehow be used to our advantage. North Korea is working on nukes...we could work on our very own the weapons of A_ _ destruction. And I officially can not believe I just wrote that. Do I leave it? It's cracking me up so I think so. Wow! I am so far off on a tangent is it even possible to get back on topic or do I just keep rolling with this one? Focus...focus...)
That commercial interruption was brought to by...well...not Huggies anyway.
And we're back...so I packed the girls and their gear up and got them in the car where I was faced with yet again the battle of the car seats. This time the enemy was Madelyn's seat. For some reason despite my best efforts, that seat has revolted against me and will NOT sit at the proper angle. I know this because that stinkin' little indicator dot that is supposed to be void of all color was screaming orange at me. So I made the executive decision, time to move up to the new car seat. Weight's right, height's right and I refuse to fight with that little car seat carrier deal any longer. So snap snap I hook up the car seat and find myself face to face with the same stinkin' problem. Wrong angle. ERRRRR.....So frustrating. Then, I solve that one only to find the buckles are all twisted up which is an entirely new battle for today anyway (FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SOMEONE PLEASE INVENT CAR SEATS WITH SAFETY BELTS THAT RETRACT INTO THE SEAT). Now, I'm sweating. Chloe is patiently sitting in her seat a spectator to my fist fight, while Madelyn is having her own battle with a little dangling monkey hanging from the handle of her car seat carrier which she's still sitting in.
Somewhere in the midst of my misery I discover Madelyn needs a diaper change (of the you can't pretend you don't know variety). I tag my husband, he works on the seat while I cleanup little Miss. When I get back, the seat's ready. Go Ollie!(that would be my husband). I put Madelyn in it only to realize I haven't adjusted the safety belts from back when Chloe was using the seat and they are not even remotely close to being in the right position for Madelyn. So now I've got to take Madelyn out of the seat for the third time, to completely re thread the safety belts through the seat. (frustrated sigh here...).
After I finish that task, I set Madelyn down in the seat and I kid you not, my three year old looks at me and says "Mommy, I got to go potty." You have got to be kidding me...She wasn't. AAHHHH!
Eventually, we all get strapped in, pick up my mom and start heading over to the running store...and...we get stuck in a traffic jam (please explain to me why roads can not be worked on during the week, during the day, excluding rush hour of course, or even better, in the middle of the night...you know when there's not tons of traffic as opposed to mid-Saturday, when people are trying to enjoy their little bit of time off which I highly doubt any of them are doing at a dead stand still in the middle of the expressway, because of work that must be done on what so often appears to be NOTHING. Seriously, we were backed up for miles for one truck and one dude moving cones around, not putting them up, not taking them down, just moving them around a little. MILES!)
Needless to say perhaps, but by the time we finally get to the running store, it is now lunch time. So we go to Friday's, where my mom and I had a mountainful of appetizers and Chloe had the hugest bowl of macaroni and cheese with what looked like an entire can of oranges followed by a cup of dirt for dessert (chocolate pudding, crushed oreos, and gummy worms and she loved every minute of it). Now while Chloe was eating as if I hadn't fed her in weeks, Madelyn was wrestling with me, her rice cereal and some squash. Here's the thing about Madelyn: she always wants to go. Let me tell you, she's got the baby slide down like a two-year old pro and can practically free herself from my grip before I know what's happening. Only one problem, she can't even crawl yet, so she's not GOING anywhere, not that the floor of Friday's would have been the best choice anyway.
I could go on and on here about various trips to the bathroom for both my girls and a highchair boycott, but since we're not even to the shoe store yet and I'm a little tired, I'll move on.
Now picture this: my mom trying on shoes, my 6 month old trying to baby slide out of her stroller, and my 3 three year old who has suddenly found herself in a whole new world full of exciting possibilities which she is sure MUST include toys somewhere if only she looks hard enough, and all the while some teeny tiny sales rep whom I can only assume has not only never had children, but has probably never even met very many ("honey, your mommy's trying on shoes" in a whisper is of no concern to a three year old...nice try though lady) asks me questions about my feet.
Somehow, I manage to get a new pair on and the sales rep says to me I can go take them outside for a little run on the sidewalk if I want to test them out. And for a brief moment, the thought of running away crosses my mind. But I opt for taking Chloe out for the run instead, which she loves and wears her out a little in the process. Repeat for test shoes number two which happened to be the new version of the pair I already own and the winners since I am now worn out enough that I no longer care which shoes are on my feet as long as the soles haven't had the life squashed out of them. We pay and head for the door, of course not without one last request for a drink of water from the water cooler and a quick grab of a handful of those little plastic shoelace thingies (you know the ones I'm talking about, those little clips, what are those called?) which I try to simply shake out of Chloe's hand (because I don't have enough hands to hold Madelyn and Chloe's arm AND pry her fingers open) only to find she's got a death grip on them so now I look like a silly fool shaking and shaking thinking she's going to drop them any minute but wind up pulling out the mom voice coupled with the first AND middle name to finally get her to drop them.
Fortunately for me though, both girlies fell asleep on the way home so I got to have a nice quiet drive. Of course they were both raring to go when we got back, and I hadn't had that sweet luxury of a nap.
So I type this for you all with heavy eyes, and the remnants of a headache that tylenol could not quite knock out but also A NEW PAIR OF RUNNING SHOES!!!
P.S. Nike Structure Triax if anybody's interested. They're stability shoes, a little more on the snug side in the midfoot/top of toe box which I like.
P.P.S. This does not mean I no longer want to win that tribal running gift card (http://www.tribalrunning.net/ go signup and give me a shout out as the one who referred you to help me along on my foolish quest) or that my feet will not be smiling if I do. I'll just be purchasing something else that will put a smile on their little foot faces, something else they so desperately need. Come on now...you know what it is. Think dirty little secret #4.