It started with the lamp.
The Captain and I have matching bedside lamps; or rather, we HAD matching lamps, until yesterday. #6 -who shall henceforth be dubbed “Bam-Bam” for his penchant for grabbing and smashing stuff- managed to slip unnoticed into our bedroom after breakfast. Three minutes later, our once intact lamp was transformed into this sorry state:
So when I woke up early this morning, I decided that we’d go to Target & replace the lamp. That may not sound like a noteworthy decision, but when you take into account that I’d be lugging six other people with me, it’s more of a serious thought to ponder, you know?
But summer’s dwindling, and I’ve been making more of an effort to detach the children from their electronics and drag them out into the sunshine… or in this case, into Target.
The tricky thing about an unplanned outing is making it happen within a reasonable time frame. To just announce that we’re going to be leaving the house spontaneously provokes a reaction of awe and bewilderment. You mean we’re leaving…. the house? Like, now?
And without fail, at least one child will need to:
- Eat breakfast. Because even though breakfast has already been served & consumed, THIS child complains that he/she didn’t eat “enough” and can’t go without it.
- Find A Missing Shoe. Now, it SHOULD be simple; there’s a shoe rack by the front door, & the shoes are on it. Well, most of the shoes are there. Except one- the one that we can’t find as we’re trying to leave.
- Cram Numerous Tiny Toys Into A Bag. For some, getting into the car means that we will never, ever be coming back to the house, so jam every tiny toy in the house into a tiny bag to bring along. Said bag will then be dumped onto the car floor at some point, with many of these tiny objects rolling into obscure crannies of the car & found by the resigned car wash attendants.
- Whine How They Just Want To Stay Home. Keep in mind, this is the same child that just yesterday whined that we never go out.
- Go To The Bathroom. This will only happen once we are already in the car and about to pull away from the curb. It will be the child who insisted before exiting the house that he/she didn’t have to go.
Despite the obstacles, we headed out, enjoying our ride with the soundtrack of #s 2 and 3 arguing over who touched who’s butt, and #5 gleefully mimicking their use of the word butt, which promptly draws complaints from #s 2 and 3. This draws sighs of exasperation from #1, who, now that she’s entering junior high, is so mature.
Enter the DVD player….
Ahhh… silence. Well, except for the monotony of the DVD “Bolt”. For the 9,000th time.
So, a word about Target. I find the name Target to be ill fitting, because the name and the bull’s-eye logo give you the impression that you’ll enter and exit the store with laser-sharp focus, buying only exactly what you need: bull’s-eye, baby!
Umm… no.
When you combine such a wide variety of goods all in one place, my shopping style is anything but specific. Instead of zooming in, grabbing my item and sailing out, I tend to wander aimlessly, on total consumer overload. Sort of like:
I could go in there to buy a tube of toothpaste, and an HOUR later, I’m experiencing moderate buyer’s remorse as I fork over $60-$70 because we NEED new forks, a welcome mat, curtain rods, a cool new K cup flavor, a bicycle helmet, etc. etc.
Oh, and I have to thank Target for their new, streamlined multiple carts. Instead of their old ones, which were like pushing a dog sled, their new ones are like pushing a sleek dogsled.
Whoo whoo! Crazy Train, coming through! I’m sorry, fellow shoppers…
So we got the lamp. And then, I got cocky. I got bold. I lost my mind…
“Hey kids, let’s get school backpacks while we’re here!”
Have you ever seen the school supply section of your local Target in the month of August? If you’ve never had the pleasure, well, it looks something like this:
.. so the logical thing to do is to try and commandeer a submarine-sized cart crammed full of hyped-up kids directly into the mob of grumpy parents jockeying for crayons…
It was too late to take it back. The older four ran off, giddy, and I was left to steer the barge of a cart around in loose circles, trying to avoid #5’s groping hands from touching any part of any shopper’s body (a feat easier said than done. Sorry, nice Grandma lady. And sorry, Target stock boy.)
I warned the older ones:
“You have five minutes to decide or you take your books to school in a plastic Target bag tick tock tick tock run run run…”
(No problemo. They have been trained in the art of rapid decision making.)
#6 began to melt. And when baby melts, it’s all over. Although he sat patiently through the fork selection, and the lamp debate, & the K cup deliberation…. backpacks proved to be too much. And you don’t want to be THAT mom; the one who continues to shop with a wailing baby. It’s time to haul A$$ to the checkout. NOW.
Instead, you become THAT mom- the one who juggles a wailing infant on her hip while standing in line, trying desperately to pay for the items she has tried so, so hard to buy.
But we got the lamp. And the backpacks. And the forks… etc, etc…. and #6 sat happily in the car, mesmerized by the sounds of…. “Bolt”. Again. And we even got lunch at Wendy’s...
But strictly Dollar Menu items. Because we blew the big bucks at Target, of course.
© Copyright 2014 Six Pack Mom, All rights Reserved. Written For: SPM Writes