Thursday, September 15, 2011

I Mean What I Say: Walmart Edition

Dang you, Walmart.  I've written about The Walmart Effect before.  It seemed like every time I pushed a squeaky cart down those shiny-tiled aisles, I came across things that were just "off."  There's something about that place.

This morning, after a newborn photo session with my homegirl Jenn, I rallied the troops and headed on up to the Walmart 35 minutes away with a specific shopping list, a specific purpose, and a goal of finishing our list as quick as possible so we could get our butts home for yet another attempt at a normal naptime.

Oh. My. Gracious.

From the second I put the van in PARK, I sensed I was in trouble.  I told the boys to stay put while I put Thomas in the Moby Wrap.  Isaiah instead unbuckled himself from the carseat and proceeded to wake Thomas up before I even got around to the other side of the van.

After getting Thomas somewhat secured in the Moby (Really, I so suck at using that thing.  I just didn't have a chance to practice with my new Ergo or I would have opted for that!), I allowed Isaiah to emerge from the vehicle.  I unleashed the beast (Micah) and tried to put him in the seat of a shopping cart.  He immediately launched into a massive fit over having to sit in the card and.....horror of all horrors....

....he kicked at me.  I had Thomas on my chest.  He kicked the baby, essentially.

I've told them over and over that if they cannot listen and behave, then I will not take them places.  As the old saying goes, "I say what I mean and I mean what I say."  With the elderly couple in the handicapped parking space looking on with mouths agape, I wrangled Micah out of that shopping cart and put him right back in his carseat.  I ordered Isaiah to get right back in the van.  I pulled Thomas out of the spider web that was my rotten attempt at babywearing and put him back in the carrier.  In the midst of wailing screams, streaming tears, and snot aplenty, I followed through on my threat.

We turned right around and left.  Didn't even make it in the store, people. 

Looks like I'll be batting my (uncurled and mascara free) eyelashes at Evan and begging him to let me go to Walmart with just the baby this Saturday morning!  I just hope I can make my meager stock of nursing pads last until then.  If not, I'll be the strung out mama wandering the aisles of the Baraboo Walmart wearing a soaking wet T-shirt and smelling faintly of sour milk. 

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