The Job/Joy of Mommyhood

I finally just take the first dress shirt I can find that is his size. I am not angry. I am in control of my situation. (I am an only child so I talk to myself a lot about being in control) I am exhausted by now though and my sweet boy has turned into a freak. He acts like he is on something and I can feel people looking at us with contempt. I realize, “oh, my gosh, I have turned into that woman, all the women with kids I used to roll my eyes at and wonder why they didn’t control their children!” As this realization starts to sink in, I say “alright, let’s just go” and he is still screaming so I say, a little more loudly, “fine, you can walk, we are leaving anyway!” We go to the front quickly and there are clothes left everywhere in the aisle and I DON’T CARE. We get to the register and I look at him and say “don’t you move”. As soon as I turn to pay the lady, he shoots off full speed to the other end of the store. So calmly, I say “excuse me, just a second..” and I run off after him, arms full with his coat and mine plus my purse. I grab him and pick him up and I am thinking that I have to try and pay while holding all this and him and there is a huge line behind me because it is the holidays and they are all looking at me with loathing already! So I pretend no big deal even though in my mind, I am already melting down and I try to get my debit card out. Meanwhile, he is climbing me like a monkey on a tree and somehow his foot gets caught in my waistband. I have elastic waistband dress pants on. Do not judge me. So the pants come down.

Now, whenever something like this happens to a person, time actually stands still and all becomes quiet and you can hear your own heartbeat. One thought went through my mind like a locomotive. “I have granny panties on”. You think you will pass out but you don’t . So I am now attempting to pull my pants up but I can’t because his foot is still stuck and he is still struggling. I slowly look up and everyone in line is looking at me in shock. It is mostly men and their faces actually look frozen. The lady at the register is pretending not to see anything and asking if I have a store charge card. Now, in my own head, I am screaming but out loud I politely say no, I don’t have one. I am finally able to pull up my pants and I hand her my debit card. Somehow, I finish the transaction in a blur.