Before having kids, I was the perfect parent. I would watch haggard looking mothers screaming at their kids in the grocery store and think, "What a rotten mother. She is clearly insane and has no business raising a child." I could envision how beautifully my imaginary children would act in public and then breathe a sigh of relief knowing that I would surely be an exemplary parent.
Now fast forward a decade or so, and the picture looks slightly different. Today, I stepped into the lunatic shoes, while watchers-by enjoyed the scene. In my defense... the day was doomed to failure. My husband and I needed to register our car, so I got the enviable task of taking the car for emissions and then to the tax office... with the kids! Yay, me!
The trip to the Computer-Tune-and-Lube was okay, except for the fact that the office wreaked of cigarettes and my daughter managed to use almost every cup from the water cooler, while spilling most of the contents. By the time we got to the tax office, my daughter had decided that I was no longer allowed to look at her. You can imagine how difficult it is to get a child out of their car seat and through a parking lot without making any eye-contact. Once we were inside the building, she decided to take off her boots, her coat, and her sweater. I was then directed across the hall and then quickly re-directed back to my original destination.
After dragging the kids back and forth, they decided that they had had enough, even though we'd only been inside the building for about four minutes. While the lovely girl behind the counter was attempting to complete the transaction, my kids started to fight. Apparently, they were arguing over who was going to get to stand at the middle of the counter. They proceeded to slam into each other, knocking me back and forth in the process, all the while I'm struggling to hear the woman on the other side of the counter and failing miserably.
Somewhat calmly, I crouch down and tell my kids to, "knock it off." My son claims that he's not doing anything; he is completely innocent, despite the fact that I am watching him participate in these shenanigans. I stand up again hoping to speed this up, so we can leave before things escalate further. But instead, my daughter begins to shriek, my son pushes her further, she pushes back, and a nice long line forms behind us. It's always important to have an audience for these performances, you know.
The room is getting hotter by the second. I can feel at least 6 sets of eyes on my back. And every muscle in my body is beginning to contract. I finally grab my receipt and start barreling towards the door. Unfortunately, I don't make it very far, because as I attempt to scoop up my daughter, I realize that my keys are firmly attached to her tutu. Oh, did I forget to mention that her ensemble consisted of brown tights, a purple tutu, green t-shirt, pink sweater, and snow boots? Well, it did. Needless to say, we were not sneaking by unnoticed.
Eventually, I was able to pull my keys out of the tulle, gather up the random pieces of clothing, and herd my kids towards the exit. All the while, muttering something like, "Five minutes, that's all I asked! Instead, we make a total scene, what a complete embarrassment!"
By the time we got home, all I could think of was chocolate! But since I recently decided to take sugar out of my diet, that wasn't happening. Instead, I settled for some herbal tea and extra brooding time. Needless to say, I'm still brooding, because there will never be a substitute for chocolate. It is, after all, the food of the gods, and mothers alike.
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