"That" Mom

To anyone in Kohl's today, I apologize. Today I was "that" mom. You know the one. The one who is letting her child run amuck while she juggles 15 other things at the same time.

I headed to Kohls to spend 20 dollars in Kohls bucks for my preggo sister who lives out of town. She had mailed them to me so she didn't get ripped off by Kohls, after purchasing extra Caroline items a month ago so she could receive the coveted extra Kohls dollars.

Before Drew & I got out of the car, I changed his outfit because he was soaked in slobber. (Tooth number 8 is kicking our tail in spit.) So we went inside where I contemplated the use of the stroller. I opted "no" for several reasons:

1. Half of them were covered in crumbs and unidentifiable things.
2. Drew had just gotten out of a Target stroller where I had to continually remind him to "sit" and "stay," as if he had turned into a dog.
3. Kohls stroller/buggies are the WORST. They're oddly shaped and can hardly turn a corner without knocking over an entire rack of breakables.

So on the hip he went. My intention was to pick up 2 cute outfits ($10/piece is reasonable, right?) and get the heck outta dodge. Not so! Kohls usually low prices were bumped up today and were "Buy 1 at regular price, get the second 1/2 off!" Um, a Carter's outfit for 14.99? Making 2 outfits $22.50? I just couldn't do it--even though it wasn't my money. I can't allow them to rip off a sister. So we headed down to the clearance rack, Drew in tow.

Drew was itching to get down, flailing around and grunting, as if I were keeping him from discovering this whole new-to-him world. So I sat him down, praying he'd find enjoyment at staring at himself in the mirrored rack. Well, that might have worked if a Mickey Mouse kid sized chair hadn't been sitting there. So he tried to sit in it, pulled it around, pushed it over, etc. "Sturdy chair," I thought. He was squealing with delight playing with the aforementioned chair not 5 feet from me, and this lady across the rack looks at him out of the corner of her eye, lifts an eyebrow, and purses her lips as if to say, "Hmph! Heathen child!"

Not wanting to be the mother I saw at Target yesterday, I tried to take a step back and examine if I was letting my child run amuck, disturbing everyone else. He's just sitting there playing with a chair and squealing with delight, granted he was barefoot. What's the harm?! It's carpeted! The lady walked off, nose stuck in the air.

That's when I looked over and saw Drew dragging the chair down the aisle by the tag. Riiiiip. He ripped the tag off the chair, tearing the barcode in two. I sat the torn piece back in the chair, only to turn and find Drew playing with a huge roll of stickers some employee had left on the bottom shelf. "Great!" So I took the stickers away (which upset him) and proceeded to put him on my hip and carry the 10 pieces of clearance rack clothing in the other arm (with my purse) to the front. At this point, I was wishing I had that confounded stroller.

That's when Drew pitched his first public temper tantrum. Feet kicking, red faced, whining LOUDLY, and twisting to get out of my arms. I made my way towards the check out. I got lots of sympathetic heads which cocked to the side. "Thank you for understanding." One woman told me, "Awww...he's probably just hot." Okay......me too.

WHAM. The smell hit. Yep. The blow out diaper had occured. First one in a LONG time. Right there in Kohls. And the diaper bag was in the car. (Rule #354 of Mommyhood learned the hard way: The first time you leave your diaper bag in the car, you WILL need it, even if you've never used it in a store before.)

So the old lady and old man in front of me were wanting to count out their pennies to total the exact change while I stood rounding up my smelly, whining, kicking son. Lady on aisle 2 felt sorry for me and said she'd check me out. "God bless you," I thought.

"Do y'all take returns?" I said. "This one is just acting up a little too much in public and so I think I'd like to return him," I said with a smile. She laughed as she looked at me with sweat beads forming on my forehead (and running down my back and everywhere else possible). Then she said those words which I think about every day, "I bet you'll be glad when Daddy gets home tonight, won't you, Mom?" Oh my- yes!

So the next time I see "that mom" in the store, I'm gonna be nice and not even glance her way. And if somehow our eyes do make contact, I'll look at her with sympathy and know that she, too, is ready for Daddy to be home!