I dragged all three kids to Target to stock up on my dorm room shopping list.
God help me…on so many levels.
Can you imagine trying to match pajama bottoms to pajama tops and coordinate a bathrobe in the presence of 3 children age six and under? Wait…what am I thinking? Of course you can and that’s why you’re here reading my horror story.
There I was, 6 minutes into the Target excursion. Kate was buckled into the cart, Gwen stood on the back and I parked Joe at the front. My instructions were explicit. “Don’t move, keep your voices down and don’t lick anything.” You see, Joe has a bit of a weird oral fixation. He’s had it since he was a baby, which made complete sense because he was a baby. Now he’s six. He licks his sisters, he licks the dog, and sometimes he licks things like shopping carts.
Within minutes, I was overwhelmed by the sheer variety of pajama bottoms. Finding matching pajamas, each piece in the same size, isn’t as simple as it sounds. In addition to the visual stimulation, my children were already behaving like animals. Kate had somehow wiggled free of the buckle and was standing up in the shopping cart. Actually, not so much standing but doing that weird toddler dance – the one where they bend at the knee and bop up and down. Anyway, she was bopping to Gwen’s loud rendition of Frank Sinatra’s Strangers in the Night.
Elmo in the night…he’s such a butthead, Elmo in the night…I’ll throw him out the window…
Back in the days when I was childless and pajama shopping was simple, I would have been horrified by the mother whose children were so clearly out of control. I mean, how can she not hear them? Doesn’t that woman care that her son is simultaneously laughing at the dancing baby and licking the shopping cart?
Meltdown stage was nigh.
I hid behind a rack filled with Nick and Nora jammies. My blood pressure was rising and, for the briefest of moments, I contemplated buying a pair of Hello Kitty jammies. It would have been so much easier. They came in a set and my size was clearly available. Thankfully, I shook that idea off. Mostly because I’m not 13.
I hunkered down next to nightgowns covered in sock monkeys and attempted to relax with some deep breathing. Unfortunately, I’d reached the point where all I could think was, just give me one more bleepin’ minute you little bleepity bleep bleeps!
I finally found a pair of Calypso for Target pajamas on the clearance rack. They are the right size, totally cute and completely inappropriate for sleeping in a dorm…at my age. Let’s face it, I’m no House Bunny.
Whatever. I’ve come to the conclusion that excursions like this are the reason for things like Mom Jeans. We’re just grabbing the most convenient items off the racks in an effort to get the hell out of whatever store we’re in before the shit hits the fan. Outings like that also call for things like “Mommy Juice” which is Gwen’s name for wine. Tonight I think I’ll have an extra strength Mommy Juice. Straight up.