I should’ve known any outing that began with me in my only pair of clean jeans was destined for failure. Not only were they my last resort in pant wear, they were also painfully tight. Constricting my organs tight. So tight it was less of a muffin top and more of a burst sausage casing. Really unpleasant. This alone should have been reason to succumb to the power of the drawstring and leave the mall trip for some other afternoon.
The van, though, needed alignment. My husband lured me with shopping prospects.
“If your pants don’t fit, you can just buy new ones.”
“Nooooooooo. I don’t want new ones. I want these to fit!” As I stuffed a mini Twix in my face and slipped on my shoes. My sweatiest shoes.
Did I mention it was nap time?
Of course it was.
At Sears, the attendant told us it would be an hour and a half. The precise amount of time we would need to be out of there by in order to pick up our six year old at dismissal. It would be close, but what were we if not adventurous?
We handed over the keys.
We circled the mall once before stopping at the train ride, where my almost three year old son eagerly stepped in to the first car. Somewhere along the second circuit, his smile turned in to a frown. By round three his eyes were wide with panic. Fourth time past a waving mom and dad, he was wailing. Open mouth, in fear for his life.
“Stop!”
By then all I wanted was a greasy, salted pretzel and a large lemonade. We parked ourselves with the boy at the island of 75 cent kiddie rides, which no parent can bypass without fielding a nuclear sized kid meltdown. The days of quarter priced mechanical horses are long past. We converted our last three dollars in to change and let the kid loose.
Minutes later the Sears guy called. One of our tires was screwed. Two screws actually and damaged beyond repair, one of the others would never ride straight again, something about treads and rotation and other things I refused to follow in conversation.
It would be a while.
We took the escalator up to the store’s second floor. Then my husband had to make a pit stop.
In my infinite wisdom, I figured the Christmas display would best provide my fatigued child with a brightly colored, fabulously lit, distraction. He circled the various lawn ornaments with glee as I parked the stroller and pulled out my cell phone. I had to text my neighbor so she’d know to pick up the kids at the elementary school. It would only take a second.
In that second my son climbed over the display’s plastic border and hooked one of his feet beneath the blanket of cottony fake snow. He went down in slow motion toward the lit up snow man, which toppled forward in to the lit up reindeer, which in turn tipped the Christmas tree, which fell on top of the giant nutcracker. It was a domino effect of falling lawn ornaments as my son wailed and everything came crashing down before my eyes, not to mention the eyes of all the customers waiting at the tool department check out, along with three cashiers, and one associate who was pushing a mower to its rightful place. I stood there, jaw agape, in my too tight pants holding my cell phone in my hand while my baby cried amid a pile of fallen Christmas toys.
“I’m sooo sorry,” I muttered, scooping up the kid, strapping him in his stroller, then rushing off to hide in electronics.
Jeeeezus.
I sat cross legged in a desolate aisle while my son fidgeted in his seat. My husband no where to be found.
“Let me out, Mommy. I want to get down.”
Fine. At this point. Fine.
When I set him loose upon electronics, my phone buzzed. My husband wanted to know where we were. As I texted my location another employee strode up behind me.
“Ma’am!” When the hell did I become a ma’am? “That radio is heavy, he’s going to get hurt.”
I looked over in time to see my darling boy pulling a Cars boom box off a shelf and on to his darling wee head.
Oh crap son of a biscuit. I’m THAT mother.
Yes, I saved him from a potentially serious head injury.
No, we didn’t make it to the school in time.
And yes, we’ve got to go back because Sears didn’t have our replacement tire in stock.
It was just that kind of day.
Don’t even get me started on last week.
