I CAN'T MAKE THIS STUFF UP!
Okay, I had to shop frantically today, for my kids Valentine's party for school tomorrow. Well I got started a little late this morning because I got caught up in answering emails and obsessively reloading the JMarco site because all their shoes and clothes are, like, 90% off! I gotta get to the stuff before 2 million other women add it to their own shopping carts! Make that a few 100,000 more women who know about the sale now that I've blabbed all about it. It's a good deal if you check it out. Just stay away from the SHOES!
So around 9:30 I decide I need to change clothes and head out to Wal-Mart's, which is my least favorite store in the world, but because of our ever shrinking budget these days, I can't afford organic food at the health food store right now. Reluctantly, I have to drag myself to the "big yellow smiley-face" store down the road. Going to the gym went out the window today because there is not enough time to kill fat cells since I was so engrossed in shopping for shoes. One does have their priorities.
I'm trying to dress according to my mood this morning. I'm feeling rushed, anxiety-ridden, harried, fearful that Nia is gonna go ape-shit in the store again cause she thinks she too big to sit in the basket anymore. Plus, I'm dreading the thought of spending half my life's savings on Valentine's paraphernalia because the price of EVERYTHING has gone through the roof. But I don't think there's a bank in this land right now that will loan me money to buy freaking chocolate bunnies, so I'm dressing in black!
I'm rummaging through my closet which is filling up with items I've ordered online from JMarco, but I'm also realizing I have more additions for my yard sale. This stuff has gotta go because I can't move my hangers back forth now, so sifting through it is giving me yet even more anxiety. I gotta GO! So I look over and see the jeans I had on yesterday and decide to throw those on to save time and energy here. Grab a black shirt and, and, and..... yeah, my Ed Hardy boots! Those will make me feel a little better. I mean, I live in Florida, so you got a short period of time during the year in which you can wear these things.
I realize when I put them on that the whole purpose of wearing Ed Hardy boots is for the screenprinted tattoo design on the front is to be brazenly broadcasted while you wear them. So why am I putting my jeans over the boots? So that means I gotta tuck the jeans in. Well, it usually helps if you have your pants completely on when you do this. This insures a measure of safety while one is frantically running around trying to get out of the house. I sit down on a "hope" chest (hoping I can get out of the house within the next 10 seconds), and proceed to start stuffing each frayed hem of my jeans into the boots. Well, I stupidly lift my right leg up and over my left as I'm stuffing and completely flip over sideways onto the floor smacking my head into that one little hidden corner of my metal bed frame! You see where THIS day is going.
Hence I am now rolling on the floor, since the common sense to stand up and pull my pants up and try again, has ceased to exist. With a bump on my head, and my bum in the air, I finally succeed in stuffing those stupid pants in my boots. Then I put my pants on as normal. All this because I love my Ed Hardy's! I have officially become a fashion victim.
Thank God Nia has cleverly dressed herself this morning. In fact, we both look kind of the same except she is donned in pink! I rush her out the door to the car and realize that my husband has taken my van and left me with the....... bagel barge. Now don't get me wrong, there's nothing actually wrong with a Lincoln Town Car; it's just NOT for me. I loath driving this thing because it feels like the front end is five miles in front of me! I have to park at the very end of a parking lot because the thought of smacking someone else's car with this maroon steel monstrosity really freaks me out. So, not only do I have to drive it, I gotta walk a mile to the front door of the store with a three year old in my hand, who is very excited over the prospect that I'm going shopping just to buy her bubble gum, chocolate, and lollypops.
I buckle Nia in her car seat, which for once doesn't take me 10 minutes of begging, pleading, bribing, and crying to do so. The feeling of relief starts to settle as I finally feel I'm back on schedule and sliding into the drivers seat. YES, I can do all this shopping, strawberry-making, filling out Valentine's, and decorating desks, ALL IN ONE DAY, yes-sir-eee Ma'am! Insert key into ignition and..... brooooggg, brooooggg, brooooggg, brooo......
SNAP, SNAP, SNAP, SNAP, SNAP!", I yell because my three year old is in the car and I can't use my word of choice. The battery in the stupid oversized piece of crap of a car is dead! I can't make this stuff up! My head is spinning with all the things I'm suppose to do and now can't get the car to start! I'm feeling the sharp pangs of panic rise from my belly, making my head hurt in the process. What do I do? I start laughing, just laughing hysterically! My husband is out of town with MY van, and I have all this stuff to accomplish - WITHOUT A CAR NOW!
I pick up my iPhone and call my husband because this is so amazingly bazaar, yet funny that I just have to share the stinking moment with him. I let him know what's happened and we both conclude that "somebody" left the door ajar and the lights inside the car stayed on. Grant it, he is the only person that drives this boat unless he takes my van out of town. "Hmmmm... I wonder who it could have BEEN", I tell him. He naturally blames one of the kids because they are, after all, not there to defend themselves. But since my husband is the type of person who can't seem to close a cabinet door to save his life; I'm thinking he's the culprit.
He proceeds to tell me how to open the hood and disconnect the cables from the battery, hook it up to the battery charger, and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. I'm like "are you kidding!". With the day I'm having, I will not only shock myself into a new dimension (that might be a good thing), but I'll blow up the car as well. We banter back and forth about this until he suddenly blurts, "well why don't you call that roadside assistance thing we have?" Well, now I know where the other half of brain went today; my husband has it! He never comes up with these ideas because these are usually MY ideas. "Great idea!" I squeal.
This problem is now solved. I now have to drag Nia crying back into the house because she thinks we are absolutely not going; therefore, her chances of scoring some major chocolate are all but squashed. I keep reassuring her we are just delaying our errand by a few minutes until the man comes to fix the car. I have to bribe her with Ghirardelli chocolate chips to get her to believe me, and to calm her down. I call the roadside assistance folks and they reassure me that someone will be at my house in about 30 minutes. This man must have telepathically sensed my situation and came flying because he was there in 15 minutes. He was even quicker jump starting the car.
We're now in the car headed for Wal-Mart's while Nia practices being the next "American Idol". She's singing everything, and making up most of it as she goes along. But at least it's not "Hark the Herald Angels Sing", again. Wal-Mart's is relatively quiet this morning, which is good cause it means I don't have to park so far from the front and take a half hour to walk to the door. Their Valentine's section has been extended to two isles crammed packed with every Made-in-China, heart/love related item a corporation's R & D department could conceive. We are stuffing the basket with the $1 and $2 items cause I'm on a budget. Even the strawberries are on sale today for less than 2 bucks! I'm thinking I'm gonna get out of this cheap!
In the middle of deciding between the huge Hershey Kiss or the big red chocolate apple for my other daughter Toni, Nia loudly announces (I'm thinking it's coming from the intercom system over my head), "Mooooom, I gooooootttaaa peeeeee!" It doesn't help that the everyone in the entire store is in the Valentine's section, and they are all staring at my daughter nervously jumping up and down and holding her..... hoo-hoo (well, what else can I call it here???). I convince her to stand on the end of the basket while I fast-walk to the front of the store while trying not to run other mother's and their rugrats over in the process. I do NOT want my daughter peeing in the middle of the floor today!
In the bathroom, I'm kind of rushing her to do this quickly so I assist her. That's when I discover that my daughter has been running, falling, jumping, and climbing in the store with absolutely NO UNDERWEAR ON!!!! Now she's not wearing a skort that can cleverly disguise the fact that she's not wearing any underwear. No! She's as naked as a jaybird under that mini-skirt of hers.
"Where is your underwear NIa?", the words straining as they leave my lips.
"Well, I kinda got hot at home and took them off and then I kinda forgot to put them back on," she says with her head cocked to one side and looking at the ceiling.
All I'm thinking is how fast I can make it to the children's section and how cheap are the underwear, and can I get them on without anyone noticing. She's back on the basket and we're fast-walking again. You know, I'm actually getting that exercise I missed out on at the gym today. So I tighten my butt as we head to the underwear section thinking "I am gonna lose some fat cells over this!". Picking the underwear out almost leads Nia to a meltdown over which Disney princess to choose, but we manage a package of Arial's for $4.98. I literally put her in between two racks of clothes, check the coast out to see if anyone is looking or headed in our direction, then slide those puppies on. "Good!", that crisis is over.
I finally finish this little adventure and I'm loading my "I love my family so much that I went through all this trouble" stuff on the checkout belt. People left and right of me are making comments that I must be getting ready for a party. "You think?" But I know I'm cool cause nothing here is over $3.00; with the exception of the Arial underwear. I'm chatting with the cashier when she suddenly announces, "That'll be $112.85!" I actually laughed at her thinking she was pulling a funny one on me. Until I look over at that little thing that sits on top of the register like a mini marquee, and sure enough it says I owe $112.85.
I just bought $112.85 of $1 to $3.00 items! How the hell did this happen? "Save Money-Live Better", my ass! And I did all this while forgetting to buy the bread that my husband had earlier reminded me to buy. I flash a stupid little smile like "I meant to buy that much chocolate and stupid stuff for Valentine's.". Then I pay and get out before it really hits me what I have just done and return everything, and ruin my kids Valentine's day and go down as the most hated mother in history.
I don't want to think about Valentine's and chocolate anymore. I just want to go home, have lunch, and put Nia down for a nap, and then....... I want to see if there are any new shoes for sale on JMarco.
