Running errands in this stage of the game is equivalent to Chinese torture for me. I loathe it. Everything about it sucks. The getting the kids ready, making sure they both have happy tummies before we go, packing and double checking the diaper bag for all the necessities, getting them loaded in the car, unloading them out of the car, trying to convince my almost 3 year old to sit in the stroller, the constant struggle to get him to stay in the stroller, the bribes to get the said toddler to not touch anything, to stay next to me, to stop crying/whining/screaming/refusing to listen/running away, the having a very short time limit, the lack of spontaneity while shopping, the urgency for a bottle, the kid that is begging for a candy/movie/toy, the trying to make purchases while kids are fussy/screaming/crying/whining/refusing to listen/running away/complaining of being hungry, the loading them back in the car (especially if it is raining), the drive home with errands unaccomplished because I have given into the torture.
Okay so it isn't always that bad but when it's bad - it's BAD!
Back when I was pregnant with Owen, right before Christmas, I attempted a quick run to a bookstore to pick up a gift. I thought it would be easy; I told Fynn that we just needed to run in really quickly, that he needed to hold my hand while we were in the store and to please be a good boy. He agreed. My cute, sweet, innocent two and a half year old promised to be a good boy.
The first couple minutes he did as he promised. He held my hand, didn't touch anything and just smiled at the other patrons as they perused the aisles. I thought I had it made! Boy was I wrong. I should have gone running for the door right then and there!
We headed for the back of the store where the books I wanted to look at were shelved. Unfortunately that is exactly where the dreaded kids section came into view. Of course being a very brave 8 1/2 month pregnant mom I didn't have a stroller so there was no way of avoiding the beeline Fynn made for the kids books. I waddled my way after him and told him that as soon as I found the book I was looking for I would take him back in there so that he could look at the children's books. Apparently that wasn't good enough and the begging/whining and naughtiness ensued. I tried all the tricks in the book. I told him that if he cooperated that I would give him a piece of candy when we got back to the car, that we could watch a movie when we got home, how about a big bowl of ice cream, too? Good gawd child I'll sell all my organs and buy you a small island if you just stop your tantrum and let me shop for a minute!! BUT NO! That was clearly not good enough. He right there dropped to his knees and started freaking the frick out! Literally as if I had told him I ran over Lilly that morning. It was horrible and embarrassing. And of course the place was packed because it was only the week before Christmas. I got looks of sympathy at first because here I am with a toddler from the movie Problem Child and I'm hugely pregnant and oh poor lady, that really is unfortunate....to looks of horror and irritation because seriously lady can you get your kid to shut up already!?
I was pissed now. I couldn't get him to listen. I was frustrated. I even gave in a bit and let him look at books and play at the train table (who's bright idea was it to put a train table in the book store any way- morons!). We were on our second tantrum now because I really needed to get the book and get the heck out of that dang store. Did I mention that I was 8 and 1/2 months pregnant? Yeah, so I picked the kid up, waddled myself over to the section of books I needed, grabbed it and headed for the register all while Fynn was crying, kicking and screaming to "PUT ME DOWN!!!". I was steaming now, mean mugging people back because at this point I was about to set my kid on the next display case with a free sticker.
As I lugged the kid towards the register the tantrum got worse. He was arching and flailing around making it extremely difficult for me to carry him. So, in my rational mind set I pinched the inside of his leg. Yep, because that was going to get him to stop the screaming and fighting me.
Instead it just made him angrier. And because he is my child he starts to holler over and over again at the top of his lungs "DON"T PINCH ME, OWIE, OWIE!!!" and then he lets the dam of crocodile tears fall.
I was furious! Now the looks were of horror, shock and "I am so going to call CPS on that woman!".
I finally reached the cash register where of course there was a ridiculously long line; I set Fynn down, got in his face and said through gritted teeth "Do not move; move and I will tie both of your feet together". Okay, so I didn't say the last part but I sure thought it.
As we stood in line, Fynn sniffling and snorting still, the woman behind me leans down to Fynn and says "Oh, sweetie, is your mommy not being very nice to you?". I swear, that if it weren't for the fear of my fat pregnant face being plastered all over the news I would have punched her right in the neck. Instead, I grabbed Fynn by the arm and made him stand in front of me. Oh the nerve!
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