and so the five of us spent the day tootling around town instead.
it reminded me of the old days, back when I had a pile of little ones and no "real" help to speak of. at the time, I just did it-- hauled them here, there, and everywhere without ever giving it a second thought. then again, my choices were pretty slim. it was either a.) take them along or b.) become a prisoner of my own home. (duh, what would you choose?) truth was, I needed to get out and see people, to reassure myself that beyond the sticky faces, snot noses and endless dirty diapers, there was indeed life out there. don't get me wrong, I can ga ga goo goo like no one's business, but after a few days of it, a little intelligent adult conversation provides a much welcomed respite.
consequently, I have countless stories of herding (or attempting to herd) my miniature beings in and around public places. these include breaking up hide and seek games among clothing racks, apologizing for overturned shoe displays, dealing with runaway children, babies squalling, toddlers wailing, and kids (that should know better) throwing all-out tantrums, to name a few. all for the sake of wanting to "get out" of the house. after a while, you think I'd give up, but no. instead, I would reassure myself that the next time would be better, although it never was.
by far, the worst episode was the time I had a kid unexpectedly puke in the shopping cart at Target. not only did the barf splatter all over the items in the cart, it oozed between the cracks and dripped to the floor, eliciting a five-alarm response from Target's team members. trust me, it's not very relaxing when you've got a handful of employees on your tail, all barking into their walkie-talkies at the same time: "clean up in aisle 12, clean up in aisle 16, oh boy, another in aisle 20," and so on, as you're racing to find the nearest exit. immediately, thoughts of your former single life come rushing to the surface, and it takes EVERYTHING YOU HAVE not to place the kids on the nearest end cap marked 75% off and run for it. never once pausing to look back. phew, that was a busy time.
anyway, now that I have capable babysitters, it's a rare occasion that I dare take the littles out by myself. and by "out,"I mean anywhere that's not kid friendly. because to be honest, it's physically exhausting, not to mention the high probability of something going awry.
amazingly enough, they did quite well. Rowan only shrieked once at Quizno's, and that was because Phoebe stole a Cheeto from him. to sweeten the pot, I promised them ice cream and a trip to the park if they didn't run away while I shopped. worked like a charm, so long as I kept a death grip on Rowan's arm.
at Baskin Robin's (Phoebe's into "doing" her own hair):
downtown included a little photo booth fun:
at the park. Scarlett is sure grooving on the whole walking thing. she stands up, claps her hands, and then starts walking. cutest thing ever:
yep, Rowan found the markers. again. apparently he had thoughts of converting over to Hinduism, and got a little carried away in the process.
that night, the girls kept asking over and over, "when is dad going to be home?" I kept telling them that it wouldn't be until after they'd gone to bed. not a half-hour later, I heard Phoebe quietly sobbing in the other room. I heard Ella ask, "what's wrong?" to which Phoebe replied, " I miss dad! WAAAA!"
and so Ella invented the "Let's Pretend To Be Dad" game, where they each took turns pretending to be "dad" coming home. whoever was "dad" would go out in the garage, while the other waited anxiously by the door. when "dad" appeared, much hugging, celebrating and cheering would commence.
see? told you I was second rate.
PS. do you have any horror stories of Outings Gone Bad? if so, spill it.