In my last post I said, " ... when I had each of my children I gained another blessing. As they age, I lose a little more pride ... daily. I think all new moms need to learn the following phrase: "Who do you belong to? Where's your Mommy?" I use this phrase in stores when my children act like they need and have not taken their medication. I'm not claiming that mess.
It's no secret that my children act like little fools 98% of their lives. I don't blame them for their behaviors ... they are male children and I am firmly convinced (I can say this, these are MY male children) that there MUST be a chromosomal abnormality science has not yet revealed to the general public that deems all males incapable of reasonable thought process. Hand a boy a hammer and he'll hit whatever is closest to him ... a person, a rock, a frozen giant Costco size container full of Hawaiian punch (yep, my boys have done that).
Hand a girl a hammer and she'll look at you, reason for a moment in her mind, look around for WHY you gave her the hammer, realize there isn't a nail in sight, and hand it back to you and say, "why did you give me this hammer?" Working versus non working chromosomes of reasoning ability.
Occasionally I get the foolish notion that I can test this chromosomal abnormality and its limits and I take my children into public. Given my obvious lack of attention in health class, and Jon's irrational fear of the vasectomy, I find myself now almost 38 years old with a 3 year-old and 11 month old in tow. By Utah standards I am a) waaaaaaay to old to have children that young this old b) behind the curve because by 38 I should be standing in the wedding line at my children's wedding or celebrating the birth of my grandchildren c) they are two of four children ... by 25 I should have had at least 5 to call my own.
I didn't live in Utah when my babies made their appearance. The first three are spaced a nice even 5-6 years apart. It gave me time. Time for amnesia to set in about the abnormally large 16" head circumferences I had to deliver, time for me to gather myself together to act like I had a clue how to parent, and time to have one or multiple children at school and only ever have one at home with me the way God intended. God is laughing now. Not so funny.
My sister recently moved to Utah County (silly, silly sister). We decided to take her two under three kids and my two under three kids to lunch and shopping last week. It was a moment of weakness, there were crepes mentioned for lunch, what could I do, it was crepes! After a morning of strategic planning rivaling that of a the best planned military mission, I managed to get myself and the two kids out the door on time with only one of them screaming ... the three year-old. But at least when he screams I know EXACTLY what he's calling me.
We picked up Kati and her two kids and we were off. The crepes for lunch ... not exactly as planned (sort of okay compared to what I had imagined in my mind for weeks prior!). But on the way TO the crepe lunch, we passed some of our favorite places. "Kate, look, Ross, TJ Max, Pier One ... " the stores were endless and I had not been "shopping" in forever. We suggested to Emerson (age 2) and Caden (3) that we should go to some "stores". They agreed, awesome.
The rest of the day is sort of a blur. It started in Ross ... Kati and I were lured into a sense of security with those two little monsters until suddenly we hear a "wack", "smack", and blood curdling scream. Emerson and Caden share a love hate relationship. They are besties for the first few moments of their time together ... then they are frenemies ... then they beat the hell out of each other. Gratefully the days of "mine!" have not been heard in awhile ... they've been replaced with violence.
Caden usually screams, Emerson pouts. My kid is louder, of course. The day ended with store #2 (no way these two were making a store #3). I bribed them both with a stop at the "Krispy Kreme" for "boys who behave". They were "manageable" and the meltdowns were minimal. Of course, I did have to bust out with the, "who do you belong to little boys" phrase when they started acting foolish at store #2. Out of the corner of my eye I saw some women looking at me all disconcerted as if they were really two errant lost acting like little fools children. Her disconcert was replaced with a "get me the hell out of here before I have to get involved with those two monsters" dead sprint the other direction as they started running the aisles. Rookie.
We made it to Krispy Kreme ... thank goodness for the drive through so Kati and I didn't have to yet again place on display our athletic prowess strapping in each of the four children into the seperate car seats in the Expedition to exit and enter the vehicle. However, as luck would have it, the two special chromosomal lacking male children with no reasoning skills in the BACK of the LAST seat of the Expedition decided they needed to take off said car seat belts as we pulled into the drive through. Apparently they needed to have full body language capabilities to place, excuse me, scream their donut order.
Kati said, "what, what? get your seat belts on!" I noticed there was about 2 cars ahead of us in the drive thru lane so I jumped out of the drivers seat to get into the back, back, back of the Expedition and strap both their happy butts back into the car seats. By this point Caden had reached full meltdown potential, Emerson was pouting and also reaching meltdown, and I couldn't get their stupid car seats attached to save my life. All I could mutter was, "please, please, I pray they have Vodka in their donuts." Kati giggled, but I seriously thought Vodka in a donut was genius for this sort of situation.
We placed our order, and waited ... and waited ... and waited for an abnormally long period of time. Apparently Krispy Kreme didn't get the, "don't make the mom with the 47 children screaming wait in the drive thru lane longer than 3.5 seconds when donuts are involved ... madness will incite." Madness did incite. I didn't catch the beginning of the argument, but I saw in the rearview mirror Emerson and fists of fury flying Caden's direction. Caden started screaming and slapping back. Honestly. At least throw a punch at each other you ninnies!
Kati and I tried our best to ignore them, until Caden screamed out, "Moooooooom, tell Emerson to ..." I cut him off and said, "Caden, we'll let the police handle this situation." I know, it makes no sense, but it also makes no sense that a Krispy Kreme in Utah County where desperate meth snorting housewives driving 15 passenger mini vans filled with sister wives and hollering polyglyt children don't sell Vodka donuts!
Kati started snickering, then we both fell into hysterical laughter when Caden screamed, "call the police right now and tell them to take Emerchin to JAILLLLLL!!!!!" Kati told Caden she was calling "whine-1-1-" right away! Then the babies started to get persnickety ... the donut lady (sans the Vodka donuts, losers) finally gave me my goods (aka donuts, NOT HOT, again, losers) and then came the situation of "how" to get the donuts back to the back, back, back of the Expedition without one of us having to crawl back there. I grabbed the bag from Kati, filled it with two donuts, and said, "flick it with your wrist like this" and with the grace and agility reserved only for an olympic event threw said bag containing two donuts to the back, back, back seat ... only to successfully wack Caden in the head inciting screams (since he had lost all reason at this point and was still suggesting, rather demanding, his 2 year-old cousin be taken to jail immediately for questioning!).
Kati managed to talk him off the ledge as he opened the donut package ... but she made the fatal error of saying, "Caden, okay, give Emerson one donut and you have one donut." Emerson was starting to tear up and I heard a whimper. Even HE knew this request had about a 1% chance of success. Caden started to lose it again ... so Kati excercised her best donut hostage negotiation skills promising Caden we had MORE donuts if he would just give Emerson one of the two donuts in the bag. Caden complied ... donut coma was soon to follow with all four children, all was well.
Moral: Listen in health class, space your children at least 5 years apart, never take male children shopping even if they act like they will behave, they are genetically incapable, Krispy Kreme needs to look into Vodka donuts.
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