Shopping, Naughty Children, and Unwanted Opinions

I'm going to let you in on a little secret...I don't like to shop.

There are many reasons for this. One being that I am not really into 'fashion'. There is just something about jeans and t-shirts that draw me in. Maybe it's because I grew up with three brothers, and as a result, fashion, make-up and hair was never a pressing issue in our family.

Except for the time that my oldest brother permed his hair. I will only defend him because it was the late 80's, and long, fluffy hair was considered "the in thing'. Luckily I was too young to pick up on that trend, so it doesn't really count anyway.

My other reason for disliking shopping is because...well, I have children. And because my children are not at the age where they can stay at home while I run errands, they must come with me. I emphasize the word must because they whine and complain the entire time.

That's just what happened today when we went to the mall to find some school shirts for Isaiah. Believe me when I say that if there is something I dislike more than shopping, it's shopping at the mall. It is the bane of my existence, but also something that must be dealt with at least twice a year.

So there we were walking in a straight line through the mall, like a mother duck and her chicks. Only, I don't recall ever hearing chicks whine like my kids do. And I'm pretty sure that said chicks don't crawl through the clothing racks, and swing from the bars as though it's their own personal gym, all the while knocking clothes off their hangers, and stressing the employees out.

You have no idea how many times I reminded them, through clenched teeth, to knock it off. But did it work? NO!

So we left the store, with a bag full of new shirts for Isaiah, and my blood pressure slightly higher than before. Then I did something very stupid, and I will blame it on the fact that my blood was not flowing properly, because I allowed Isaiah to carry this bag of new shirts. Of course, I was thinking that he was just trying to be polite, but I soon realized that was not the case. Caleb's high pitched screaming brought me to a halt, and when I turned around, I noticed that Isaiah was using the the bag to pummel his brother. UGH!

Again, I reminded them through clenched teeth, to knock it off. But did it work? NO! Do you want to know why? Because I was stupid enough to stop in one more store. You see, I am still in need of a dress for our court hearing in Russia, and I saw a really pretty dress hanging on a mannequin in the front window of a little shop. It was cute, inexpensive and would have worked perfectly, if only it was in my size. Which, as luck would have it, it wasn't. As I turned around to leave, I noticed Caleb checking out the mannequin in the front window and Isaiah, on the opposite side of the store, reaching his hands through electrical cords and wires for a pen that was wedged between the cash register and desk.

Honestly! This trip to the mall was becoming a nightmare, because I was now seen as one of those mothers that let their kids run wild and terrorize everything in their path.

They were out of control, and aside from doing something that nowadays could have Child Protective Services called on me, there wasn't much I could do. So I got down on their level, looked in their eyes and in a really low voice said: "you guys had better put your hands at your sides, shut your mouths and not make a peep until we get to the car".

I thought I had it all under control. Actually, I did, until we reached the escalator. Of course, to a perfect stranger my kids must have looked like angels as they walked with their hands at their sides and their mouths closed. And I'm pretty sure that the ladies who were behind us on the escalator thought Caleb was just adorable as he turned to smile his lady killer smile at them, right after being asked by me to please not sit on the escalator. But a split second after smiling at them, his foot slipped off the front of the step and he started to fall backward. Luckily, I caught his arm, and with a firm grip I spun him around just in time to get off the escalator and pull him to the side.

Yeah, I'm pretty sure Caleb won those ladies over with his smile, and I'm sure they probably thought he was Mister Innocent, because, as they walked past me one of the ladies said "you don't need to be like that with him".

Never mind the fact that my kids have just spent the last hour whining, complaining, swinging, screaming, hitting, crawling, fighting, playing with mannequins and undoing a store's entire electrical system.

No. Forget about all that.

Let's not even consider the fact that I am at my wits end and about ready to pull my hair out because my children, God bless them, are driving me insane.

No, let's focus on the mom who, in an effort to keep her child from falling on sharp, metal steps, reaches out and grabs his arm.

Yeah, that's the ticket.

It's a good thing she kept walking too, because I was in no mood to deal with her opinions, and if given more time, I would have happily let her know it.

And then I realized that I was now seen as one of those mothers who overreact and get upset over nothing.

What am I to do?

Fist things first, I am going to have a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream. Then, I am going to start the fourth book in the Twilight series. And if I'm still not feeling better, I am going to lock my children in their room until summer is over.

Oh, but that poses a problem because then I would be seen as one of those mothers, and I really don't want to be that.