Today has been...well, frankly I've sat here for quite some time thinking of how to describe it and nothing seems to be appropriate for a family blog.
Madie was cute enough when she first woke up but decided about an hour into the morning to make it a miserable one. She threw fits for two hours. Two. Hours. When we decided to head to the DMV she threw such a massive fit I told Mike I would just stay home (I was going to go to the mall, Mike was going to the DMV). As soon as I said it I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach: the last thing I wanted was to stay in an apartment that needed cleaning with a Mad Madie. After cleaning up a bit, I locked myself in the coat closet until Madie toddled off in a puzzled, silent search for me.
Hey, don't knock it. It works.
Shortly after letting myself out, Mike knocked on the door and said he left something. We were all noticeably more controlled--Mike had let off steam in the car, apparently--and he asked if we should try again. Madie went into her car seat without a hitch and we were all lulled into false and fragile security.
I left Mike at the DMV in Tracy and drove a couple minutes down the road to Marshall's. Let me tell you some things about myself you may have guessed but might not already know:
1. I don't like Tracy. It's dirty, miserable little town with almost no self-sustenance. It's a parasite on the back-end of the Bay and would be much better if it were just torn down and allowed to be wild.
2. I don't particularly like Marshall's. I've been in a couple and just never found anything I really liked, but I'm usually willing to give it a shot if it's been a while. I haven't been in this one, and I haven't been in any for a number of years.
3. I hate DMVs.
While I was shopping at Marshall's, I was delighted to find a white tanktop I could use as an undershirt--mine is becoming bizarrely thin at the top and I can't figure out why--I also found a couple of other items that caught my fancy, but before I could start making my way to the dressing room, Madie decided she wanted to throw another tantrum. She threw herself on the dirty floor and cried angrily at me for not letting her push the cart into the clothes racks. I stood there and looked at dressed. We finally agreed on her being carried, since pushing the cart wasn't an option, nor was sitting in it.
I told the little Filipina woman at the dressing rooms how many items I had and she showed me to a curtained room. When I stood Madie on the ground she flipped out. She cried the whole time I was trying things on--I ended up only trying two, it was that much of an ordeal--and at one point when she calmed down to take a breath I hear through the curtain the voice of the Filipina woman:
"You know why? You know why?" I finally realized she's trying to talk to me. I didn't answer.
"It's because you make her too accustomed to being carried at home." I thought of all sorts of quips, but decided it was best to pretend I hadn't heard anything. Madie started crying again and I started changing back into my clothes. Again, as I was preparing to get out of the stall she tisked me and suggested I feed the poor baby. On my way out, she took my clothes and caught me by the arm--this lady was determined--"You shouldn't carry her at home, you know?"
I thanked her for her profound parental wisdom and skipped happily away, realizing the answer to my tot's tantrums.
On the way home Mike announced the car couldn't be registered in California for less than two thousand dollars until we proved some tax thing or other--you can add "I hate taxes" to the list.
Now there's a fly circling my head. In my house. I hate those things.
But I love cooking and trying new things, and I love whoopie pies, so off I go to experiment. Let this be National Whoopie Pie Day. Please? For me?
Madie was cute enough when she first woke up but decided about an hour into the morning to make it a miserable one. She threw fits for two hours. Two. Hours. When we decided to head to the DMV she threw such a massive fit I told Mike I would just stay home (I was going to go to the mall, Mike was going to the DMV). As soon as I said it I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach: the last thing I wanted was to stay in an apartment that needed cleaning with a Mad Madie. After cleaning up a bit, I locked myself in the coat closet until Madie toddled off in a puzzled, silent search for me.
Hey, don't knock it. It works.
Shortly after letting myself out, Mike knocked on the door and said he left something. We were all noticeably more controlled--Mike had let off steam in the car, apparently--and he asked if we should try again. Madie went into her car seat without a hitch and we were all lulled into false and fragile security.
I left Mike at the DMV in Tracy and drove a couple minutes down the road to Marshall's. Let me tell you some things about myself you may have guessed but might not already know:
1. I don't like Tracy. It's dirty, miserable little town with almost no self-sustenance. It's a parasite on the back-end of the Bay and would be much better if it were just torn down and allowed to be wild.
2. I don't particularly like Marshall's. I've been in a couple and just never found anything I really liked, but I'm usually willing to give it a shot if it's been a while. I haven't been in this one, and I haven't been in any for a number of years.
3. I hate DMVs.
While I was shopping at Marshall's, I was delighted to find a white tanktop I could use as an undershirt--mine is becoming bizarrely thin at the top and I can't figure out why--I also found a couple of other items that caught my fancy, but before I could start making my way to the dressing room, Madie decided she wanted to throw another tantrum. She threw herself on the dirty floor and cried angrily at me for not letting her push the cart into the clothes racks. I stood there and looked at dressed. We finally agreed on her being carried, since pushing the cart wasn't an option, nor was sitting in it.
I told the little Filipina woman at the dressing rooms how many items I had and she showed me to a curtained room. When I stood Madie on the ground she flipped out. She cried the whole time I was trying things on--I ended up only trying two, it was that much of an ordeal--and at one point when she calmed down to take a breath I hear through the curtain the voice of the Filipina woman:
"You know why? You know why?" I finally realized she's trying to talk to me. I didn't answer.
"It's because you make her too accustomed to being carried at home." I thought of all sorts of quips, but decided it was best to pretend I hadn't heard anything. Madie started crying again and I started changing back into my clothes. Again, as I was preparing to get out of the stall she tisked me and suggested I feed the poor baby. On my way out, she took my clothes and caught me by the arm--this lady was determined--"You shouldn't carry her at home, you know?"
I thanked her for her profound parental wisdom and skipped happily away, realizing the answer to my tot's tantrums.
On the way home Mike announced the car couldn't be registered in California for less than two thousand dollars until we proved some tax thing or other--you can add "I hate taxes" to the list.
Now there's a fly circling my head. In my house. I hate those things.
But I love cooking and trying new things, and I love whoopie pies, so off I go to experiment. Let this be National Whoopie Pie Day. Please? For me?
9 comments:
i wish you had responded cause i would have loved to know what you would've said to such a rude person. for me i think i would have said "please leave, you're starting to annoy me as much as my kid is, except you're big enough to hit!"
Mallory, you came off a gracious lady! Good for you! (I am choosing to ignore the previous comment. See? I can be gracious too.)
Here Bob, I'll tell you what I said in my mind:
"Ya know, you're making this already uncomfortably thin curtain-door even more revealing. Would you please back away from the curtain so I don't lash out and maim you and end up in the tabloids?"
I like the idea of locking myself in the coat closet. Really, I do. Also, I commend your self restraint. I usually am unable to hold back an onslaught of vicious sarcastic comments that (thankfully?) go over most people's heads or at least shock them into silence.
Mad props. Mostly for surviving the terrible toddler years. My future nephew is in this stage right now and let me just say that I am so glad I am childless at this present moment.
oh yea for public fits. i do my best to ignore them or just leave. unless it was like that time in joann's. where i HAD to get the stuff for enrichment and he wanted the m&ms. i think we may have gotten the checkers to move a little faster.
It is rare for me to go shopping with my kids these days. I have had too many of these moments you just described. People think they are being helpful, but as you know, they are just adding to the miserable experience!
I laughed so hard reading this post! Good thing that lady is so smart, otherwise you'd be going aroung with a grouchy kid for the rest of your life!! Don't you love people who give advice when you're naked in a dressing room?
Wow, Mal. Rough day. I like the coat closet idea. We frequently send ourselves to time-out when the kids are driving us bonkers but aren't doing anything "wrong" per se.
Some kids are just harder than others.
Sorry you had a rough day, 3 M's. I promise, it will get better when you can reason with her because bribery works like a charm! Hang in there....
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