It's the Worst Possible Time of the Year

In order for this day to not turn into a complete bust, I decided I would run out and get ahead on some errands, realizing that this cold/head/chest thing is getting progressively worse. So The Captain and I popped into Old Navy to buy a bunch of basic layering Ts and leggings, and a couple of pants for Tenille who suddenly last week, and with the worst possible timing EVER, outgrew all her clothes.

Oh The Captain was so perfect! He brought stuff to me ("Mama you must have this scarf!" How sweet, right??), he heeled when I commanded, fetched when I told him to, you get the picture. Ah, my perfect little angel boy...And this bliss goes on for a while...

Here's proof that my 6+ years of mothering haven't taught me a thing: I decide to pop into Sam's Club across the street to get a few staples. Don't laugh, Sam's Club is my new obsession--they carry things that my Costco doesn't, and have NO LINES, EVER! (Because God forbid I decide to bake something and then find out I've run out of unsalted butter--like that would ever happen; I have five pounds in the freezer. No joke. Five pounds. Because I did run out on Thanksgiving and had to borrow one lousy stick from my neighbor Susan. Thank you Susan! But I digress...)

Now every mother worth her salt knows that you can only possibly get one, maybe two good hours out of a toddler during any given shopping spree. Apparently I'm a slow learner. So here we are, skipping merrily into Sam's Club where the proverbial shit is about to hit the fan.

The Captain, still in his Buzz Lightyear outfit, was so perfect for a good long while, smiling coyly at all the kind shoppers' comments about his outfit, chit-chatting with Mama, holding my shopping list...until the end when he looks up and asks, sweetly:

-Mom are we done shopping?
-Yes, why?
-Can you bring me to the toy aisle? (He says EYE-le! So cute! Well, it won't be so cute in a few minutes, but it was at that moment)
-Sure honey, but we have to leave soon to pick up Mia, OK?
-OK

A few minutes pass...

-Mom can we buy this Bakugan set?
-No honey, you are going to be getting a ton of toys for Xmas.
-How about this Hot Wheels set?
-NO, we can't just buy every toy we see.
-But MOOOOOM...You never buy me anything. Your favorite word is NO! Why are you torturing me (yes he said torturing)?!

This goes on over every single toy, practically. You've all been there, right?

Then we come to the train set.

-Mom can you buy me this train table?
-Liam, are you kidding? You already have a great train table! I'm definitely not buying ANOTHER one. And even if I did, where on Earth would we put it? You know we have NO ROOM!

My friends, Liam has a GORGEOUS train table, with waterfalls, helipad, construction yard, roundhouse, bridges, moats, you catch my drift...This damn train table cost an arm, a leg, and a left nut. But, none of that matters: this is where I lost him. He went nuts. Ballistic.

As in:

"I hate you, you are not my mother, I want to trade you for a better mother, I'm calling Santa and putting you on the naughty list, I am so sick of you, You are so bossy, You're driving me crazy, What's the matter with you, You are evil..." plus 60 other things I have since forgotten. 

Through the aisle and down the checkout lines and this shrill, infuriating, psychotic meltdown is on display for all to see. I get a few sympathetic looks, but mostly a shitload of sideways glances and judgmental stares.

By the grace of Sweet Baby Jesus we somehow got through the checkout while he yelled obscenities at me. ME! The same woman who carried him for nine months, and not long ago was still wiping his sorry ass! 

And then I hear it: "Hiba! What are you doing to little Buzz Lightyear?"

I whirled around to see a friend from the gym, Vanessa Wood, looking absolutely GORGEOUS in her smart flared-leg, whip-stitched suit, heels, accessories, makeup, hair etc. And I looked like hell. Jeans, sweatshirt, no makeup, sallow skin, ratty hair, and screeching primate by my side...UGH. And she actually wanted to hug me which was so very brave and nice of her (thank you Vanessa).

What seems like hours later we are finally home. The Captain still hasn't quite recovered. He's sitting next to me, along with sweet, even-tempered Tenille, and barking orders. "I want juice!" "I want pickles IN...IN...INNNNNNN, my sandwich, not next to it!" 

Grrrr...Oh please don't think I rolled; he's become quite friendly with the two dustbunnies and the spider who are currently residing in the living room corner. 

After I explained to him (over his hysterics and histrionics) the proper and respectful way to ask for things and to treat his mommy, we made our peace; he hugged me, and retreated to his dining chair. 

A few minutes later I look up to find him eating contentedly, taking the pickles out of the sandwich and munching on them, while humming the Weeds theme song..."little boxes on the hillside, little boxes made of ticky tacky...little boxes on the hillside, little boxes all the same..."

To any of my girlfriends who actually read this cathartic note and got this far: I need a drink so to quote Morrissey:

Take me out tonight
Where there's music and there's people
And they're young and alive ...
Take me out tonight
Because I want to see people and I
Want to see life ...
Take me anywhere, I don't care
I don't care, I don't care ....