Ok, so Friday I decided I would go to Tysons with two kids in tow to purchase a lamp for our rec room at Z Gallerie, as well as purchase some clothes that my fat ass could fit into for my new job. I gotta learn how to juggle two out some time, right? I was making fairly good progress in getting out of the house - dressed myself, fed all of us, packed the diaper bag and loaded them up in the car. Off we went to Tysons. Mind you Gavin is the ONLY baby that I know that doesn't like car rides. He literally screams the WHOLE time. But miraculously he was good on the ride there - looking around, nodding off. It was great. Bae played her Leapster.
I loaded Gavin up in the Moby wrap (think African mother) and proceeded to get my shopping on. Everything was just going way too well - well, at least in terms of my kids behaving, not in the actual clothes purchasing department (I won't even get into how upsetting/depressing it was to shop with a post-pregnancy body that is much larger and gelatinous than I'm used to). Then Gavin's next feeding time was coming up and the you know what hit the fan. Hmmm, no bottle. Yes, Crissy forgot to actually pack the bottle. Formula check, bottle nope. To top it off I had let him sleep a little past his 4-hour feeding time, so when he did wake up it wasn't going to be pretty. Sure enough, about 10 minutes after this little epiphany, who wakes up? Yep. So, I bee-lined for the exit and my car. I plugged in the nearest grocery store and screeched out of that parking lot like a bat outta hell. Gavin was starting to fuss by now. I bought a bottle at Giant, rinsed it out the best I could and made a bottle for him after securing a seat at Chicken Out (just in the knick of time b/c he was just about to have a meltdown on me). What I didn't realize is that Gavin apparently telepathically tag-teamed his sister to begin meltdown mode. So while I fed Gavin, Baeleigh who was initially super excited over her chicken noodle soup proceeded to frustrate me with picking at her food. She whined and whined, wanting to eat nothing but the bread and her chocolate milk. Once again, the food wars were underway.
Now realize that in my hurry, I had decided to go back to the mall for the lamp that I had purchased (I had to pick it up around back). But in the chaos, I was so relieved to have lunch over with and a baby with a fully belly that I was focused on heading home. I was half way through Georgetown and stuck in downtown traffice 11 miles from Tysons when I realized - no freakin' lamp. So, I had to turn back around, realizing that this meant I'd most definitely be in rush hour traffic as it was nearly 4pm by now. I picked up the lamp which of course only fit in the front passenger seat - so safe - with just enough room to peak around the front of it to see my side mirror, and headed for home. Once again, I used the nav system but of course she wants to take me north on the beltway. Not knowing how to redirect the nav system, I was stuck. So, I had to go around practically the whole beltway in rush hour. Apparently, the tag-team decided to switch back to Gavin, who now wakes up pissed that he's still in his blasted car seat. Screaming commences. And, when I say screaming I mean foaming at the mouth screaming...the....whole...way...home. I think out of the two hours that it took to get home he screamed for an hour and a half of it. Do you know how hard it is not to road rage with a 9 week old screaming behind you non-stop? Not easy.
My last highlight of the day, a very long day, I open the door to find a 5 inch praying mantis sitting (pictures coming) on the inside of our front door's sidelight. Aren't these good luck or something? I guess he jumped in when I opened the door. Gave me the heeby-jeebies. Max eyed it as soon as Baeleigh let him out and immediately tried to kill it. I think the praying mantis won. Max kept sort of shaking his head and snorting even though he had cornered the poor thing. I held Max back long enough for the praying mantis to leap back outside. I had to literally coax him over to the garden. He keep turning his nasty little triangular head around towards me as to say, "Bitch, don't push me. I'll go when I'm damn good and ready".
I'm beat. Well, at least the lamp looks great.
No comments:
Post a Comment