Day From Hell Pt. 2

Oh my goodness (not my first word of choice, but I would like to keep this relatively "clean"), I am out of milk, bread and, most importanly, baby wipes. I have my own three children plus the baby that I take care of during the week. What is a girl to do? I am going to brave a trip to Wal-Mart. I don't want to. I could go without the bread and milk until after the baby goes home, but I cannot go that long with out the wipes. Bring it!!

All four kids are packed and strapped in the truck. Everyone is in there proper seat and whining is at a minimum. Hmm, just how long will this last? Not long, I'm sure.

We arrive and so far so good. There are two decent spots available. One near to the door, but one next to a cart return. I take the latter so that the kids can go in a cart right away. The baby seat locks onto the seat part of the cart (is there a technical term for the seat part?) and the two little girls go into the basket. I look down at my oldest, "Ok, put one hand on the cart while we're in the parking lot and let's go" Now the great debate begins.

"I don't want to walk. My legs are tired"

"You're legs aren't tired, you haven't been walking"

"I don't walk. I want to get in the cart, too."

"You can't. There is no room."

"I don't want to walk. Why can't I ride?"

Now I try to appeal to the male ego.

"You get to walk because I can trust you to be a good listener. You're a big kid, not a baby."

"I don't want to be a big kid."

"Too bad. Put your hand on the cart and let's go."

I can tell from the sullen slap of his hand hitting metal that this is not going to be a good trip.

I won't bore you with all of the details. For anyone with an iota of imagination, you should be able to visualize it. For anyone with children, I can see you all nodding your heads and saying been there, done that.

Here we go:

I have lost count of how many times I have yelled at the oldest one to stay by the cart, do not walk away from me, and quit touching stuff! It does not belong to you!

I have yelled at the oldest little girl to quit messing with her sister, it's not nice and do not touch things that do not belong to you!

The middle little gir has gotten yelled at and her hand smacked for messing with the baby's sun shade on her seat.

The baby is being pleaded with. Please don't cry. There is nothing wrong with you. You were fed and changed just before we left the house. Please don't cry!

At this point I remember something my dad told me once. He said that when he was really mad at us kids he would bite the insides of his cheeks to keep from hurting us. Sometimes he bit his cheeks so hard that they bled, but the trick worked. I can't bite my cheeks. I've chewed on them so much that the scar tissue keeps me from feeling to much. Instead I bite my tounge or my lip. I tell you what, it works.