Grow Up!

I've talked to lots of people who claim that in becoming parents they have really "grown up" themselves. Clearly I am not one who fits into this category...

We were at the fabric store this morning to buy some material for further silky pillowcase creations and I thought being that the basic clientele of these locations is generally older women it would be ok to let the kids have some freedom. Grandma's still find kids to be cute, don't they? Evidently not mine! About 5 minutes into the venture I realized that giving Boy Wonder any such freedom was just a dumb choice on my part. He was running in and out of rows of fabric and bunting while his sister is trying to wrangle him back to mellow. She is following him in coercion trying to get him to "make the right choice" and he thinks she is chasing him and it is game on. After letting out a couple of super high pitched squeals, turning a few corners at mach speed and seeing the 70 year old manager roll her eyes I figured play time was over.

So I scooped him up and put him in a cart. You would have thought that I was pulling his toenails out through his nostrils with the fit that he exhibited, all the while reminding him that I gave him a chance to make good on his vow of obedience and his lack thereof was what was getting him imprisoned. I later came to regret this decision.

After perusing the store and gathering what we needed we headed to the check out...the 70 year old manager. GREAT! Surely she will have forgiven the indiscretion by now and be all smiles, right? Not so much. Mr. Mini still safely confined in the push cart, I felt confident that he couldn't piss her off any further. I suddenly notice the boy getting wiggly in his seat. Didn't think too much off it. Figured he was making fancy faces at all the maternal types standing in line behind us. And then suddenly, in the still silence of the store, he breaks forth with a gaseous thunderance so loud and so long a grown man would have been envious. I was so taken aback by this and seriously startled by the act that I kind of jumped. The checker just tried to ignore it until the second firing came to call. More boisterous and expressive than the last and this one was joined by an odor. There could be no more ignorance--this kid was on rapid succession and there was no cover for it. I felt trapped. I couldn't discipline him as he is not quite 2 and would have NO clue as to what he did "wrong." I couldn't leave the store (as much as I wanted to) as I still hadn't signed my credit card slip. This whole scene was like something out of Romper Room. I am holding the pen while my body is convulsing with laughter. I seriously couldn't believe that I was laughing this hard with no sense of control. It was the kind where you can't speak and you don't make any noise but your whole body is shaking. Tears are streaming down my face and I am trying not to let all of these women in on the fact that I am totally juvenile and incapable of accepting my sons flatulence without such a reaction. I don't want to show my tiny dancer that I am laughing as I fear she may start using this as her own form of entertainment. And all the while the lady behind the counter is just looking miffed, with a face as if to say "GROW UP!" and more so, "Get yourself and your loud, obnoxious, smelly kid out of my store!" I literally had to hide my face in my over sized sweatshirt while I tried to sign what was supposed to be my name but ended up looking more like doctoral chicken scratch. I grabbed my bag and my kids and scurried out of there as quickly as possible. When I got to the car I LOST it. What a relief to be able to laugh out loud in the privacy of my own space. This is when I realized that holding in laughter is literally painful and should be avoided at all costs.

Nice little break from the serious day that was yesterday and a further illustration that if today sucks, just hold on til tomorrow. Something good, fun or different is always around the bend.