Friday, May 1, 2009
Chelsea Handler, and why I need her.
That's right, just in case you are new to this blog you may have missed the fact that I am going to go see Chelsea Handler live this weekend. No kids. Good friends, good food, potent alcohol and a night in a fancy hotel. I am not going to tell you where Chelsea is playing, what night she is playing or what hotel I am staying at..........just in case I have a stalker. I will give you a review when I come home, and after I have recovered.
Please don't waste your time getting too jealous of me. I deserve this. I adore my life, at home with my 3 kids and managing the household but I need a break sometimes to keep up my sense of humor.
This week for instance I was convinced my kids had Swine Flu. What a coincidence they would get sick after a visit from my brother and his wife who live in San Diego, right next to Swine Flu central. Fortunately it turns out to be nothing but a couple of common colds and ear infections. So I dope them up with vitamins and amoxycillin and we head to the mall.
For years I could wear the same clothes over and over again but once you hit motherhood you actually need new clothes. I am not talking about maternity clothes, that's obvious, but you actually get too big for some clothes and too small for other clothes as you lose your baby fat and don't get me started on what happens to your ever-changing shoe size. Then your kids will actually gnaw on and tear your clothing and stain your favorite outfits with who knows what. So I am not exaggerating when I say I need a couple of new outfits.
Taking a 2, 3 and 4 year old to the mall is usually one of my least favorite things to do but somebody has to do it. And the fact that I managed to find a $48 skirt for $18 is worth a little pain.
As soon as we get to Macy's Bekah and Mike find a sofa and sit down. I am stunned! I expect them to stay with me but not actually sit and behave. This is looking really good. I am super happy. Jake is in the stroller munching on Cheerios and I actually find a skirt and 2 shirts right away. My luck is improving. I ask Mike and Bekah to follow me to a different part of the store and they listen, and they stay with me.
As I rummage around looking for a pair of jeans that will make my legs look thin, I hear a voice ask, "What brand of stroller is that?". I look up and see a cute mom with 2 girls. So I tell her the brand and then she just stares at me. I recognize the look on her face. It's the please talk to me and don't make me go home by myself and be alone with small children look. I know that feeling, I don't want to abandon her in her time of need, but I am working on borrowed time here. My kids are behaving and who knows how long that's going to last. But I can't leave her. So I ask, "How far apart are your girls?" Less than 2 years apart.
I knew it. Us moms that have kids less than 2 years apart can find each other anywhere. Across a crowded room with rainbows and hearts coming out of our eyes. She didn't know that was the reason she was talking to me because she is right in the middle of it, but I knew. Her youngest is 3 months old and her oldest just turned 2 years old. Now I was torn. I had a mission, find some clothes that didn't make me look fat, feed my kids, and get home in time for naptime. But now I just found an overwhelmed mom in the mall who needs company. So I took a deep breath and talked to her for a few minutes. As soon as Jake started throwing Cheerios everywhere and trying to wipe his boogers on clothes, and Mike really wanted to kiss her sleeping 3 month old, (which is sweet but germy), and Bekah was getting jealous that I was talking to other little girls, it was time to pull the plug.
I headed to the dressing room. In the past I have grabbed clothes, bought them, and then tried them on at home, and then returned the ones that don't fit. But I am feeling brave and we get the giant dressing room that is fully enclosed so nobody can sneak under the stall walls. Macy's is having a massive sale so the dressing rooms are packed with women.
Once in the dressing room I actually let Jake out to run around since it's fully enclosed and I start to disrobe.
"Mommy, I see your panties."
"Of course you do, I just took off my pants.". I could have sworn I heard a giggle outside our stall. I take off my shirt.
"Mommy you're fat."
"Mommy you're fat", Bekah chimes in, she has to do everything Michael does.
"Bekah and Michael, that's not nice."
"But Mommy you are fat." Now I can definitely hear laughing outside our dressing room.
"Ok that's enough you are lowering my self-esteem.". More snickers
"You are making me feel bad about myself by calling me fat."
"But you are fat.". More laughter. Sigh.
"You are fat because you had 3 babies in your pouch." Ok somebody actually snorted. They laughed hard enough to snort.
"Like a kangaroo." Bekah chimes in.
"I didn't have 3 babies at once and it's not a pouch, it's a tummy.". And I don't care how much I work out and lose weight and do sit-ups I do, I still have a pouch of skin around my belly-button.
So now Mike takes this opportunity to grab that excess skin and try to fold it into a taco and start kissing it. And saying,
"But Mommy your tummy is so cute and soft and cuddly and you had babies inside it, mwah, mwah, mwah "(those are kissy sounds).
At this exact moment Jake realizes that the door only locks on the inside and he can leave this joint. So he turns the handle and starts to open the dressing room door,
I lunge at the door just in time and slam it shut with the palm of my hand. In the meantime I knock over Mike and Jake has grabbed my leg and is trying to bite me.
"Jake no biting!" Nobody is trying to hide their laughter now and I want to dissappear.
I slam the stroller in front of the door and lock all 4 brakes.
"Mommy you pushed me down!"
"I didn't push you down, I tripped over you because you were standing right on top of me!"
"Get off the floor and go sit next to your sister! Look how good Bekah is."
"She is licking the mirror."
"Bekah! Don't lick the mirror, that is disgusting!"
I have managed to get my clothes back on and Jake has figured out he can't move the stroller away from the door and he is in a screaming rage. Nobody is laughing now. I have to wrestle him back into the stroller and that is like wrestling with a midget on PCP.
I am sweating as I back the stroller out of the dressing room and nobody will look me in the eye as they all try not to laugh.
At this point I still have to buy my clothes, feed the kids, do naptime, pay work bills, clean house, laundry, dinner, bathtime and bedtime.
Do you see why I think I deserve a night out?!