Pool Parties and Preschool Graduations

The last day of preschool approaches and the “class moms” (including the one that called me rude about a year ago) have organized a graduation party. I was able to get back into their good graces by smiling more (no more bitchy resting face-it IS a thing people!) and by being more chatty, engaged and interested (even though I’m so not..). I got mixed results, but one being, the other moms at least greeted me and would even throw out a random question here and there, and take some interest in my pregnancy and then newborn (not AS interesting since labor went flawlessly…am I’m being mean and bitter now…?) I did it all for darling son of course. But then said “darling son” goes and tells his entire class (12 boys and two girls) about his birthday party and that they are naturally invited each and everyone of them!…except they are not, not one of them. He has apparently told them all the details of his Pirate Pool Party so that the next time his teacher (miss butterfly in the butterfly class…) tells me I’m such and angel for inviting the whole, entire class! (Yep…angel!!!) and the class mom’s twin boys are dancing and screaming “pool party, pool party, pool party” jumping up and down with glee!
I try to get a word in but am very unsuccessful. After the fact – meaning AFTER the party where not one of his preschool class friends attended/were invited (WHAT? I’m not friends with these parents, I don’t know them whatsoever, we have just moved…into another community and our son is moving on to another school in another part of town in the fall…and truly we have enough with a large family and his little Swedish friends! Wait…are you still judging??) I lamely tried to tell the class mom and the teacher as said son said he had the best party EVER (well, that is just awesome…but…) that it was mostly just close family…
“Yes mom was worried because SOO many people were invited so we needed TONS of food, two cakes and lots of stuff…we had like 50 guests…” Ooookay!
Back on the s*it list I’ll tell you!

Our baby boy is already seven weeks and almost two months old, where did the time go? My oldest is now graduating from preschool which I guess it’s pretty big! I can’t believe he starts school next year (even if it’s only kindergarten, we didn’t think he was ready but he has matured so much and has so much language now, maybe it’s just his parents who aren’t ready…). Big boy wears a cap and gown (even if the gown is just a small white sheet…or hmm table cloth, with a hole for the head). First ceremony of many, it’s a little silly I know but I actually like this kind of silly, I like how Americans embrace celebrations and (sometimes) go over the top, and as I look around the church at this, my sons preschool graduation, I sob with the best of them (to my defense you not only get extra emotional while pregnant but also while breastfeeding!…google it! The struggle is real). The whole family dresses up so nicely and we are immensely proud of our boy-even if he does keep his head down, starring at the ground both as he walks in and out, shouts in the microphone and keeps asking his teacher what he is suppose to say (instead if answering questions about his favorite things to do at preschool etc ” WHAT DO I LIKE AGAIN?” .

This preschool graduation party at a nearby park went “so-so” if you know what I mean. I was “politely” told not to breastfeed so close to the kids, completely ignored after having answered the question where our son would attend kindergarten, and got many eye rolls for various things. I even overheard some moms taking behind my back about how I think I am “all that” “, so catty and also so not true!

I wouldn’t even care (I truly evolved in that department…from caring what EVERYONE thought…) if it didn’t affect my son. Even kids this young pick up on these things…
I even have the audacity to ask one of the moms to keep an eye on my oldest while I change a particularly bad toddler diaper in the park’s bad excuse for a restroom while my infant hangs low from the baby carrier as I try to wipe and change his sister (not the easiest task mind you). Even though my 5-year old is in the same spot where I left him (unfortunately being a little rough with other boys, at least they are being rough right back) I still get more eye rolls.

As we leave the class mom with her mom pose yell out that they will probably never see us again now that we moved on to (dripping with sarcasm here) “bigger and better things”…
If my get away was smooth it might have been a good wrap up, but of course I have to stump my big toe on a picnic table (it freaking hurt) and then as I drive away I go completely over the high curb with my big new SUV…(very smooth)  Oh well, the kids thought it was cool (even if I almost had a heart attack and thought I hit something at the loud thump)…

We have such a long, fun summer planned ahead. Even if I know it will be a lot with a newborn and my husband’s busy, hectic work schedule meaning I will be alone with all three kids a lot, I know we will enjoy having those special moments together..

Braxton Hicks and surviving week 29!!

Thank God my contractions got fewer and fewer- further and further apart (the meds added to my IV helped- what a scare) and I was finally, finally able to go home!

I promised to monitor any further contractions and my own heart rate and even got cautioned to just call 911 if something were to happen.

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It was so nice crawling in to bed with my family even if the sun is already up and I know that this day will be the longest ever. Even if I have been mostly hanging out in a hospital bed, I’m utterly exhausted.

Week 28 brings me somewhat back to normal. We are packing up the rest of the house with the fear of not finding another house to move into hanging over us. I’m just scared we might have to unpack again- what a nightmare that would be (but I’m keeping positive since at least my pregnancy seems to be progressing for now). The whole week is pretty uneventful. I’m of course supposed to be on bed rest at home and I do my best to rest (I really do- knowing how important it is and terrified to get admitted to the hospital), lining up the nanny and my mother in law to come help while I try to do as little as possible.
I drive my son to preschool everyday still since I was allowed to do that last week (but too scared to ask if I can this week). It’s important that he goes not just for fun but for his development, learning and social interaction (besides he loves it…and so does his mama!) especially now that they say that we are not allowed to hold him back but we have to put him in kindergarten in the fall!

I know it’s just way to unrealistic (without around the clock help) to stay in a bed with a preschooler (with unlimited energy) and a toddler (with attitude to spare) and a dog (who thinks she is a human).

I try to take it easy but the challenges of everyday life are far from that.

As I drive home from dropping off my son, I get my usual “grande decaf java chip frappe” (started off with a “tall”- promising myself it would never be worth the extra calories of a “grande”, usually hate to drink my calories- oh well grande will never-ever turn into a “venti”, promise!!) as the friendly baristas ask me what week I am now and put extra cream on top of my drink (thanks…I think…I will pay for this now AND later, I know).
Then I go home to try to force my almost two year old to nap with mixed results (leading to at least one of us bawling- if not both).
We have a late breakfast together since I’m not allowed to eat anything for one and a half hour after my AM thyroid medication. Yep! This week’s appointment doesn’t give me answers about my racing heart but the test results do come back with a very under active thyroid (which of course can lead to tons of issues including developmental delays for the baby- especially if not treated in time- best cause of action is always to start as soon as you get pregnant…jeez thanks again Google).
I’m also being send to a cardiologist to check on my heart (as soon as they have an appointment available).

As week 29 approaches so do the issues…memories…and fears.

This is now the second week I have to take double the dose of the female hormone progesterone than everyone else in order to keep this babe in (administered straight into my buttocks with a syringe that in and of itself is on steroids…meaning huge)…
The pregnancy hormone floating around in my body is supposed to fool it that I am very preggers and will continue to be for a long long time, (watch: this baby will NEVER come out). Needless to say I’m not feeling great! The feminist Swede in me would never ever blame this added hormone but dare I admit, I’m weepy one minute, pissed the next and laughing manically the third…just saying…

Unfortunately I’m the very definition of hormonal (notice I didn’t say “female” or anything prejudice here…).
I cry hysterically when my husband come home at 7 instead of 6 as promised one night (and forget about those sad puppy commercials and don’t even mention anything about sick kids…)
Talking about my husband- he is just not my favorite right now (except the times I feel an overwhelming love for him and I just want to nurture and take care of his every need…hmm- hopefully I didn’t just admit to that in writing) since I feel that he is gone too much putting a lot more than doable on my plate right now!

I mean I woke him up in the middle of the night one night to talk about what empathy means! (Not popular I might add- but he wasn’t allowed to go back to bed until hours later- none of us satisfied!)

Tuesday night, right before the 30 week mark, contractions hit strong and hard. Again they don’t hurt but are getting really uncomfortable and its in the wee hours so I avoid waking anybody up (worked so well the last time) or calling the OB hotline (paranoid mommy style). Instead I do everything that they usually advice (except going to the hospital). I drink tons of water with electrolytes, I of course rest and try to lay on my left side breathing and timing these Braxton hicks that are unlike anything that I have ever felt before…(there are definitely more than “6 in an hour”)..

Luckily by morning they have subsided and I have an OB appointment that same afternoon.

That ladies and gents mean I just survived week 29!!

Monster Trucks and Insomnia

Has anyone else been woken up in the middle of the night (especially during pregnancy when sleep is so hard to come by) of a monster voice (completely loud, scary and distorted)? Been forced to face your fears (toddler in tow) sneaking around the house (slightly terrified and not so slightly exhausted) just to find the source of this hellish sound? No? Doesn’t ring a bell? Hmm,
Well…
What if I tell you the source was a battery operated (freaking) toy!!! Maybe now you follow me??
I seriously looked everywhere- EVERYWHERE before I found it, tripping on boxes and random stuff (did I mention we are moving??) and stepped on my fair share of little Legos (ouch! Why will they be the last thing we pack?)
Guess where I found this Devils device?
In the completely natural, as well as logical, place for a black and orange toy truck…- in the shower!

That was my night last night, unable to fall back asleep, even if my princess (no way that was her nickname in the pitch black house where everyone else seemed to be sleeping just fine) eventually did. I laid their cursing my inability to relax my body enough to just slip away- and then- as usual the thoughts come. The scare that is pregnancy, the lack of control, the worry, the fear of history repeating itself- except this time way, way worse…

It had been kind of a weird week, it started with something really odd happening. I felt that I at least had to mention it to my nurse but like I told her the “story” was kinda hard to explain without the Lego cars and Duplo people (that is how I explained to mom over Skype and hubby after work).

I drove my kids to my son’s school as usual in the morning- kinda late- also as usual. When I park I see that someone is sitting in the car next to me, she appeared to be on her phone and without kids in the car- obviously she hadn’t been late. As I rush my 4 year old and his “why questions” out of the car armed with his latest art project, lunch boxes (snack AND lunch), going back to the front seat for the “lunch bunch ticket”, putting shoes back on (at least I didn’t forget them), I see in the corner of my eye that the mom in the next car puts her phone down and turns her car on. I am late so I attempt to catch her eye. Maintaining eye contact, assuming that we get each other I move my way into the tight space (remember I’m not exactly skinny mini nowadays…not that I ever was…but…just saying). She is in one of those ginormous SUVs (black and hard to distinguish from all the rest) sitting very high up. I judge that I can still get darling daughter out of her car seat (and in my arms) but I did NOT count on her starting to back out. I must say I have a split second to panic slightly- she sees us right? Again I think we are on the same page as I signal to her that I will move me and my son out of the way so that she can pull out. As I close the door on my girl I realize that the driver and I are not on the same page- AT ALL…

I push my (luckily very skinny) son flush against the car while I turn towards the huge car in the very tight space as she rapidly reverses-taking the corner- AND my stomach with some speed. I actually scream, flailing my arms for her stop as my big tummy pretty much gets smashed by the left front of her vehicle…

She does see my then- looking surprised and slightly confused…did she not see the whale with feet trying to safely get her kids to school on time?

She then tries to pull forward again, making it worse by squishing my baby bump yet again. I yell for her to stop and she comes to an abrupt halt- actually looking appropriately scared now.

I managed to squeeze myself (not easy people) as I push my son (who is completely fine by the way) back towards the back of my own car. As soon as my sore stomach, son and I have reached the back of our car she reversed again and speeds away…

I get my daughter and we speed away ourselves- by foot that is- towards class.

Hours later I can actually feel the pain. I google the heck out of what I had just experienced but I think google is even more confused than myself.

What the heck happened this morning??
I know however that baby is probably perfectly fine in her (his?)  cushiony cocoon- me- not so much.

Later on both my sister and my mom agree that baby should be okay but that I should ask the nurse just in case, that the mom driver probably sat up too high to see my huge belly…but why oh why did I not even take her license plate number…? (I guess that was the last thing on my mind…and anyways what would that help?!?)

The week continues with another urinary tract infection and I wouldn’t even be worried except during my last pregnancy  a UTI developed into a full blown kidney infection…which might have been what caused my water to break prematurely…so yeah- worried!
We had to stop by the pharmacy to pick up my prescription on the way back from my son’s school.

Both kids are in rare form. My daughter refuses the cart and decides to run around pushing everything off the shelves while my son is whiny and super loud- asking (yelling) for some cookies. I rather not hold my girl too much right now but the adorable toddler turned shoplifting maniac doesn’t give me much choice as she stuffs her clothes with chocolate and some random medication (wait are those…condoms?). Returning the stuff is challenging while holding the squirming animal, bending and lifting while simultaneously managing a preschooler who screams that I am leaving him and that I’m being a bad mama! (Pleasant isn’t he!?). As we stand in line (kind of- at least I am trying) to finally pick up the antibiotics I can both see and feel the stares. This man actually goes as far as asking the old guy in front of him “can you even stand these screaming kids?” I want to snap back but I’m all out of energy, besides they are both being REALLY annoying. Even the pharmacist promises several times that we are almost done with the transaction and that I absolutely don’t need a consultation on how to take these pills. Who is he trying to convince me or himself. As my son screams for me to stop pushing him when I simply try to steer him towards the automatic doors I see the mixed looks of pity, understanding and pure irritation. They are all probably looking at my huge belly, thinking I can’t even handle the two I already have!!

To round up my week- my big ultrasound followed by my regular obgyn check up imagedidn’t exactly go as expected…

 

One of those weeks…

It’s been one of those weeks- you know the ones that push you closer and closer towards the metaphorical cliff of a complete mommy meltdown (psychotic break more like it). Full of blow out diapers AND toddler as well as preschool tantrums. Forgotten lunches and late mornings. Fighting siblings (“head butted” and bit lil battlers) and cancelled play dates. Runny noses and coughing kids, escaping dogs and extreme lack of sleep (for moi- what else is new?- I do try to make sure my kids get THEIR sleep). More shots as well as bad news at the doctors’ – which is really what is the worst about this week- about everything…

Our son keeps getting into trouble at school because of the elaborate “fart noises”, four teacher meetings, three different teachers just this week. We thought he was over the hilarity of the sound- until we figured out that he was copying the Gringe, who apparently was sticking his butt out making that very sound in the Christmas play we took him to (so much for culture, right!?).

And oh yes, almost forgot (not quite) I dropped my kid off at preschool without shoes- barefoot! It was 52 degrees (that is believe it or not actually VERY cold here…being from Sweden I cringe slightly at this) and drizzling (of course it was).
You would not believe the judgy eyes penetrating me as I walk him into the classroom. Well does anyone care that one of those blowout diapers happened at the same time as a preschooler’s tantrum, a forgotten lunch box (remembered at the last minute) AND being late (er than normal)…? No, probably not. So it happened and I do feel like I deserve that bad mommy award more than ever BUT I DID tell him to put shoes on- repeatedly- I swear AND I went right back home to get them (even IF my toddler slept both ways in the car forgoing her nap-and my sanity…).

Of course that very same morning I put my new cellphone (the one sent to me by the insurance company because my daughter very lovingly threw my old one on the tiled bathroom floor TWICE) on the hood of the car, in the midst of the leaky (through her clothes AND mine) diaper, the four year old tantrum, the forgotten lunch AND being late and drove off with it. Aha! Yes, sure did…

I’m way too embarrassed to disclose anything else…except my very last insurance claim allowed for the next TWO years sounded like…”cellular telephone thrown out of a fast moving vehicle”.

My son didn’t get to go to the playground that morning because his very very bad mommy had forgotten his shoes (even though said son is fully capable of putting his own shoes on- and does so every morning…excuse me, every morning EXCEPT this one), looking forlorn sitting inside on a chair waiting for me.

By the end of the school week he explains he is in so much trouble his “face” (meaning a picture of his face) is not only NOT on the board in the classroom, on its way of making it up on the “super kid” chart, but not even in the running anymore. He is actually upset about it and I’m hoping the inappropriate noises will go away (Gringe noises or not). As I pick him up on Friday there is another incident report saying another kid scratched and pinched him (it’s a scratch pinch mama!) because (get this) he wouldn’t stop his…DINOSAUR noises!!

My pregnancy is progressing and the baby looks so much like a baby even on that black and white screen now! I just wish with all my heart and soul that someone could tell me for sure that everything is okay with our baby. Hello (can you hear me?) I’m already half way there…still meaning I have to suffer the worry of another twenty weeks give or take (if this baby decides to be full term) if there is something…not right (I refuse to say- or think WRONG) with this baby kicking around inside my belly. Because if there IS something wrong it will be of the unavoidable, unfixable, permanent kind…

Honestly this week has been dragging along with the dull background pain of “not knowing”. The fog of uncertainty is getting to me more than anything. All I can do though is believe…and pray and hope…and stay strong and positive. This is another layer I didn’t want this time around (who does?) but somehow I thought this pregnancy would be the easy one, like third is the charm or something…
Going into it with the preconcisting conditions of preeclampsia and premature rupture of membranes as well as strep B and reoccurring UTIs I knew it wasn’t going to be easy per say (but not that I would have all the complications of BOTH previous pregnancies present in this one) but at least I thought the problems and fears would be related to these issues…

BUT the odds are certainly in our favor and the risks extremely low (just not as low as we would have thought/imagined/expected/wanted/wished).

I round this week up with a disastrous Christmas party,getting locked out of my own bedroom by two very short little troublemakers and the unmistaken sound of sirens as I “run” a YELLOW light…

Yes Sir! and old forgetful Mamas…

Of course it’s the cheery, “earthy” teacher and of course there is no lunch bunch- it’s FRIDAY!!

I’m mortified (I’ve never thrown on clothes so fast or waken my poor baby letting her tag along in pajamas and wet diaper) which I also tell the teacher as I run inside the now (almost) empty classroom. “I’m absolutely mortified”.

I did have a vision of my son getting sadder and sadder as his little friends left with their mommies one by one until he was all alone, abandoned and crying. That, however does not seem to be the case. Little man seems absolutely thrilled to be having some alone time with his loving teacher (probably nicer and a lot more patient than his mommy…and she would obviously have remembered him…obviously).

For heavens sake, I forgot my child, FORGOT!! I’m a horrible, horrible mom!

“Honey don’t be! You know these things happen”, looking like they most certainly DO NOT- not in her world (I’m feeling awful and ashamed and… Just horrible). “Just wait until you forget them when they are in high school” hmm, now, what does that even mean? Slightly confused I continue to apologize (which she lets me a serene smile on her “no make-up” face. “But we were having such a pleasant time weren’t we?” Turning to my son who smiles smugly “no lunch bunch today, it’s FRI- DAAAY mooom!!” Well, okay, hmm, could I be feeling any worse!?

I back out of the classroom hoping I’m looking remorseful enough, cranky toddler on my hip (who does not like being woken up roughly or rushed) and drag my son along. Performing a whole other walk of shame towards our car passing the perfect moms who are now (AFTER school) having perfects picnics with their perfect little offspring on the green grass, and the preschool office where the door is open and the director ask how I am? “Well” I respond “better now” as she chuckles, she is probably judging me too.
Not one of my finer mommy moments!

I take the kids to Subway and a little bit of shopping (for kids clothes only) to make (myself) everyone feel better. I still can’t let my son have a cookie before he finishes his sandwich however and when he brings up the “no lunch bunch” for the tenth time I have had enough. “I forgot, okay!? I didn’t know, this was the first Friday and I just didn’t KNOW” I can hear myself screaming and feel people starring at the mall food court. Well, I am being rather loud now, ain’t I, but I can’t seem to calm down so I only get louder “so there is no excuse for you NOT to eat your sandwich (which is just cheese-nothing else, not toasted) so just eat it or NO cookie- EVER!!!” I even stun myself and apparently my son, his reply being “Yes Sir!”

Gap kids has a sale for member only and I have calmed down as I make the honest promise to myself to be the “nicest mommy ever”… For the rest of the day. My little preschooler is being extra helpful (probably sensing an impending mommy mental break down) and runs around looking for his size “with a 4 on it”, then he looks for a 1 for the baby (no time to explain the whole month system). I even let him get some rather hideous buffalo socks! Before we pay he asks how old I am, with a grimace I half whisper “35”. “Why are you whispering mama?”
“Because mama is really old”,  he looks puzzled for a second then he announces that he will be right back. I see him from my place in line, scanning the racks of clothes, flipping the hangers, ready to abandon my place as soon as he wanders off but instead he comes skipping back handing me a dress in pink!

Size 3-5!

Perfect!

“Even old people need clothes mommy!”
Dang, isn’t he just adorable!!!

A pretty medium, slightly stinky, criminal mom!

I actually have to wait a while with this Target guy watching me (apparently I was planning on stealing several items…and told him about it…despite my cart overflowing of stuff and the clever cover of my two whiny kids).

I just want to get out of there-after I pay of course (I promise) and so do my kids. I get increasingly annoyed but I also kind of feel for the guy. I know that in his head, he is just trying to do what is right.

By now though, I totally feel like abandoning my cart (well I would take my kids out first) and just leaving. But ever the polite one, I stand there for what seems like forever until an older women with big brown hair jogs over (she actually is jogging, not walking, not running, jogging!). Ah, so what now? Do I explain myself? I sigh as one of my kids screams for ice cream and the other one is trying to (repeatedly) manage a suicide bungee jump from the red shopping cart.

I actually don’t have to explain myself since first the guy does it for me (emphasizing the word “STEAL” several times) and then the bouncy (I assume it is the) manager apologizes…to me.

I mean of course I’m not surprised but I still get relieved, maybe I can take my kids and leave now, AFTER paying for all our other items of course!

The manager lady explains that (insert name here) he always takes things too literally but that he doesn’t mean anything by it, he is just trying to follow the rules…he is really very sweet (and to quote Seinfeld) yada, yada, yada…

We make it out of there (without being arrested), and all I’m thinking is …

That we could all use some ice cream!

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It all goes well and the ice cream does taste quite delicious until baby girl gets chocolate ice cream on her cute pink little jump suit…

A lot of chocolate ice cream…brown…stinky? Ice cream…

Except, of course it’s NOT ice cream, and of course we still have the cart with all the stuff (that we stole from Target…too soon? Ok, just kidding…) and of course this brilliant mama used the spare pants in the diaper bag at the last freaking poop explosion (sorry baby, not your fault…after all your criminal mommy is stuffing you with ice cream…should be illegal, okay, okay, I’m done!).

I decide that we first have to find our white rental car (whole other story trust me…I’ll give you a hint; brakes gave out…and up!) and then a restroom, in that order. Great plan because what would we do with all the stuff? Except baby is seriously leaky…and even strangers are starting to notice the smell (sorry strangers…and again, sorry baby girl) and of course I can’t find the dang car!

My son finds it for us, but unfortunately his mom is too dense to trust him, thinking “this car is too big to be the one we got…and how would a 4- year be able to find the right car anyways? (Only day two of driving it)”

Well, he could and he did…so while mommy wasted valuable time searching for a car her kid found…and found again, she (meaning me) could have avoided some serious leakage (on my own clothes included). Sorry Target, I’m just gonna go change this in your restroom… and then point me in the direction of the baby clothes please…
And oh I might need some of my returned clothes back!

Of course this week I’m right back at Target returning stuff. I tell the lady “no there is nothing wrong with the items but these (work-out pants) are too big, and this one (matching work-out bra) is too small (would have been worse the other way around which has also happened…trust me). As she takes the items back, my four year old turns his big brown eyes up to me and says “one is too large, the other one too small, that means that you are in the middle because you are MEDIUM mama!” (Where does he get everything from…and who taught him that?) Well, there you have it! I’m in the middle…and quite medium!

Big tough mama thug…

Last week returning some stuff at Target (what is it with that store…? You go in for one thing or return a couple items only, and it lures you in with its magical powers and $200 later…) my kids were the least of my problems.

So I’m browsing, realizing that I MUST (urgently need really) some stuff like sparking water (a necessity), baby food pouches (always), little cute, sparkling headbands (well, you know…). My big kid is in the cart trying to hold on to the increasing number of items (I’m really not trying to cover him with household must-haves, baby essentials and crucial clothing items here… but am struggling) and baby in the cart seat.

As I’m strolling along, kids actually behaving (mostly due to the small placating toy and unhealthy snack item-hey I’m human!) my son decides he is dying for some “green stuff”. The green stuff are these dried (and probably fried…?) salted snap peas that he likes to munch on lately. Slightly excited he didn’t ask for candy or cookies (the dreaded “c-words” along with chips and chocolate) I head over to the produce section (because ironically that is where they keep them).

While I’m there I might as well get some apples (naturally) and some veggies for taco night (but of course) and hey, there is the dairy aisle and aren’t we almost out of yoghurt…and milk…? Most certainly milk (can’t be sure because nobody really drinks that stuff but hubby). I grab some stuff (watching my son disappear slowly- only his blond head popping up out of the growing merchandise mountain…it’s not that bad, besides I’m now in the healthy food section…what’s more important than that?) but have to stop my shopping dance in front of the “green stuff”. A Target employee is blocking them and some dried fruit (definitely better than candy) and some interesting looking bagels (so cute and wheat…pretty sure they’re wheat…at least they are sort of brownish looking…better take a closer look…

I’m on a roll here (trying not to impersonate the shopoholic but hey, this is good) so I inch closer to the guy working by the stuff I need and announce in a loud voice “I’m just going to steal some of these and a couple of those”…

As I reach over his arms (he is arranging the “green stuff”) he loudly clears his throat…
You seriously won’t believe what happens next…

The employee asks me why I said that I was going to steal multiple items (wait…what???). I’m so confused, why would he think that?

The target guy stops me as I’m about to back away (this man is clearly not sane…) and announces “that he isn’t comfortable with my statement “to steal” (I can barely remember saying that as it is a saying and I now suddenly wish I would have phrased it differently, very differently) as I unfortunately laugh (wait, is this the same as joking about bombs in airport security…its not, right!?)

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Apparently that was the wrong reaction (but come on!!! Really??) because he looks incredibly serious as he starts talking in his walker talkie thingy (yes this happened!). He tells me to stay put while he calls a manager. I hesitate as I stand with my overflowing cart and my two (now) whiny kids. I take a couple of steps towards him trying to explain that really “can I steal some of these” is really an expression and I never (honestly) meant to steal anything (I know my kid took something from the grocery store so you might be on this nutty guy’s side too… but seriously I didn’t see it AND we took it right back…remember!?). He puts his hands up in front of me (like I’m going to attack him or something…major eye roll…is this happening??) and tells me to please step back and to sit tight (maybe I should sit down too…to take him literally…) but I guess I feel kind of sorry for him at the same time as I’m too polite (and frankly feel a bit uneasy) so I  just stand there with my children at our local Target waiting for a manager because I said that I was going to steal…(only me…)…

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