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Tuesday, September 13, 2011


Today's adventure had me completely out of control. A position I find myself in quite a bit.

Sometimes, after an unfortunate experience, I ask myself why I set myself up for these muddled situations. I should know better. After all. I've been doing this mom thing for 3 years and 4 months.

My "situation" today resulted in my need to go to a consignment shop to drop off some things I was trying to sell. I thought that it couldn't be that bad taking the boys. I'd go in, they'd check out the stuff and we'd leave.

It all began as we pulled up into the parking lot. I had to get a laundry basket, a 3-year-old and a 1-year-old out of the car and into the store. All while keeping them from wandering onto the busy road it was on.

Evan had been so helpful lately that I decided to change things up a bit. I got him out of his car seat first, and then got Oliver and the laundry basket. At first, it seemed to be working just fine. But as I rounded the back of the car to grab the other one, he ran.

That's right, he ran into the glorious, green field speckled with purple flowers that the store bordered.

One, I freaked because we were on a busy road.

Two, I freaked because my husband is paranoid about ticks and Lyme disease, and Evan, at that moment, decided to throw himself in the green meadow and roll around - giggling the whole time in his splendor of freedom.

So, I did what I find myself doing a lot of. I began yelling. "EVAN! Get over here right now! You DON'T run away from Mommy like that. We are on a busy road. Get OUT OF THERE! NOW!"

This went on for a few minutes. No exaggeration. Besides that, I was late to my appointment with the consignment shop people. I needed as much money for my load as possible. I didn't want to make them mad.

Well, Evan finally came around and we made it into the store.

Oh. No. The store was amazing. It had anything and everything children, which meant toys, books, games etc. It was sensory overload for my sensory sensitive boy. I held my breath as the door closed behind me. This was not going to be enjoyable.

And just like that, he was off. Running up and down the aisles; and then his brother managed to squirm out of my one arm holding him while I desperately shuffled my way to the lady standing at the counter waiting to see what I had brought.

I laid the loot on the counter and proceeded to spend the next 20 minutes trying to keep my kids in the play area they had so thoughtfully set up for kids; however, that didn't keep them entertained very long. They wanted to play with all of the toys that were on sale that they weren't supposed to touch.

As I ran after one, the other one would go the other way. At one point, I ran after the sound of Oliver's infectious giggles only to hear a CRASH echo behind me. I scooped up Oliver and raced back to the "playroom" to find Evan on the floor with the play kitchen on top of him.

"Sorry, Mom. I was playing."  Yeah. Great.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity and running 100 laps around the store and its maze of aisles, the lady had a total for me. I quickly accepted the amount and again turned around to grab the boys - they had run off while my attention was elsewhere, yet again.

The lady sympathetically looked at me and said, "Would you like some help out to the car?"

I squared my shoulders back, picked up Oliver's relentlessly squirming body, and replied, "Yes, that would be great. Thank you."

Evan just had to hear the word "out" and he bolted for the door. The laundry basket of the remnants of what she didn't take were put by the trunk of my car and I thanked her, only to turn around to find Evan in the field.

This time, I went after him with Oliver in tow.

As I entered the grassy ocean, Evan just ran further. But finally, yes finally, he stopped, walked over to me and said, "Come on, Mom. Let's go now."

I can now add kids consignment stores to the list of places not to bring my children. The list continues to grow.

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