So, seriously. Am I crazy for thinking that I'll find time for this blog? I mean, I'm a mommy and a wife (amongst other hats I occasionally wear). Should I really add "Blogger" to the list?
Sure. Why not! I find that sometimes... ya gotta tune everyone out and do the stuff YOU wanna do... put the Hotwheels and plastic ocean creatures AWAY, give your "Baby Talk" voice a break (C'mon, you know you have one, too!) and have some YOU time. That's what I'm doin'. (Well, technically, I'm sitting at my computer desk with a Boppy on my lap nursing a newborn... but, hey, I'm the epitome of "Multi-Tasker". If I want "ME" time, it's GOTTA be like this!)
*pause for burping session*
So, I would imagine that the "unwritten rule" of blogging is to start with your first post being all about yourself, right?... like, one of those Myspace bulletin surveys that teenieboppers do? "My name's Nikki. I like Diet Coke. I've seen Twilight 25 times." I don't know... I'm totally guessing... and I would share some info about myself if that weren't SO totally lame and completely boring. Instead, let me just start this new venture with a funny story. That's more fun for me and WAY MORE entertaining for you.
Sure. Why not! I find that sometimes... ya gotta tune everyone out and do the stuff YOU wanna do... put the Hotwheels and plastic ocean creatures AWAY, give your "Baby Talk" voice a break (C'mon, you know you have one, too!) and have some YOU time. That's what I'm doin'. (Well, technically, I'm sitting at my computer desk with a Boppy on my lap nursing a newborn... but, hey, I'm the epitome of "Multi-Tasker". If I want "ME" time, it's GOTTA be like this!)
*pause for burping session*
So, I would imagine that the "unwritten rule" of blogging is to start with your first post being all about yourself, right?... like, one of those Myspace bulletin surveys that teenieboppers do? "My name's Nikki. I like Diet Coke. I've seen Twilight 25 times." I don't know... I'm totally guessing... and I would share some info about myself if that weren't SO totally lame and completely boring. Instead, let me just start this new venture with a funny story. That's more fun for me and WAY MORE entertaining for you.
My newest son, Chase, was born 4 weeks ago today and, although he's a complete joy, I now HATE everyone who told me "having a third and bringing them home isn't as hard as having your second". Psshh. Liars. So, 2 weeks ago, I decided to break-in my brand new double stroller and attempt to tackle shopping trip with ALL THREE of my boys for the first time. I loaded up the Suburban and we headed to the mall.
I must admit, I made a beeline straight for Starbucks to get my Venti Iced Skinny Vanilla Latte (*yum*). Upon my arrival at the counter, I was surprised when my 7 year old, Cayden, ordered himself a Caramel Frapp which, of course, then meant that Connor, who's 3, got to order something as well. So, we all wait for our cups-of-yum and we head on to Forever 21... a store I hadn't been able to shop at for the past 9 months and one that i was looking forward to scavenging.
We got to Forever 21 and if it had not been such an ordeal to GET there that day, I would have left. It was absolutely WALL-TO-WALL people! (I had apparently not taken into account the whole "Back-to-School shoppers" thing) If you've ever been to Forever 21, you know that it's already WALL-TO-WALL clothes racks, so much so that it's hard to get through! NOW... imagine it with...hmmm... let's say... 200 people?
Usually, I wouldn't mind if people stopped to look at Chase and admire his TEENY TINY little body (at this point, he weighed less than 7 pounds!)... after all, he IS completely adorable. BUT, c'mon people. Don't tell me that you can NOT see me struggling! Seriously. So, because I'm a complete dork (but an adventurist) I decided to cover Chase's carseat with a blanket to hide his cuteness and stay to look around. I found it extremely difficult to maneuver a double stroller through the racks... "excuse me... xuse me..." seriously... I must have said that 100 times. Politely, of course.
I found about 5 shirts to try on and we made our way back to the dressing room. Guess what? 197 of the 200 total people in the stinkin' store were in line for a dressing room. Ugh. We wait... and wait... and... OOOOooo! Look at that SUPER CUTE SHIRT! Okay, so it's just like 5 feet from where we're standing in line, so I ask Cayden to stay right there, I take a LITERAL 5 steps to a rack, find my size, turn around, and find that 4 or 5 teenaged girls took the liberty of cutting in line while my back was turned. Cayden looked at me and said (loudly), "Mommy, those girls just cut in front of us while you were turned around!" I say back (louder), "Oh my gosh, Cayden. You're right. That was SO completely rude of them!" Okay... so, one thing you gotta know about me... I don't OFTEN say what I want to (at least, not to your face... I go home and vent to my husband.) So, this was big for me... sorta me "standing up for myself".
We stay behind the girls ((expecting that Karma would eventually catch up with them for their rudeness and, may I say, their ugly, Emo style)) THIS IS WHEN KARMA BECAME THE "B" WORD and turned it's back on me!
Chase started COMPLETELY SCREAMING his head off. Apparently, he was hungry and he was hungry NOW. So, I take him out of his carseat and bounce him "shhh-ing" him... hoping for the line to go QUICKLY. What do you think happens? EVERYONE IN LINE is like, "Oooooo. Look at the baby!" So, everyone turns and gathers around me STARING at my baby, grabbing his hands and his little feet with their NASTY mall-germ-infested-ness and I've HAD IT! Right then, the fitting room attendant got the hint and was like, "Ma'am... the handicap fitting room is open and I think your stroller will fit in it... would you like to use it?" (This is the part of the story where you have to imagine the skies opening and the angels singing!) Um. HECK YES... we'll take the handicap room. So, we're totally stumbling because I'm bouncing a screaming baby in one arm, pushing a double stroller [which do NOT steer easily with TWO hands, by the way] with the other and having to pause every 3 steps to redirect Cayden towards the fitting room, PAST the Emo Biaatches..... Karma, girls. Karma.
We get to the fitting room and... KID YOU NOT... Connor's like, "Mommy! PEE PEE!!!" Yah, seriously. He has to pee. I'm like, "No way, kid. You have to hold it for a few minutes." I take a seat on the built-in seat and begin to feed the baby. A few minutes goes by and Connor starts crying... he REALLY has to pee. He's, like, totally desperate. The only thing I can think of is my Starbucks cup!
"NO SHE DIDN'T!", you're thinking.... but, Oh... yes. Yes she did.
I grab my starbucks glass, take one more HUGE sip of it's deliciousness, and with the hand that's NOT holding the baby to my boob, I help Connor unbutton his pants and center "it" over the cup... conveniently, his little 3 year old "it" fit perfectily into the hole in the top of that dome-shaped lid. The boy nearly FILLED my venti glass! We busted out the hand sanitizer and called the whole scenerio a success.
It hadn't been five minutes. I'm still feeding the baby. The older boys are rolling all over the floor, looking under the fitting room walls and up the neighbors skirts, I'm sure... and in the blink of an eye, the starbucks glass goes FLYING out of the stroller cup-holder and splatters on to the floor.
......Oh, you thought I meant the pee-filled one? :) No. Cayden's ACTUALLY frappacino. And foam. And whipped cream topping. And caramel drizzle. Across the floor. Up the mirror. On the carseat. On my pants. Everywhere.
I close my eyes, sigh, pray for patience, cry a little internally at the choices I've made today, finish feeding the baby, place him in his carseat, get out the wipes and start Cinderella-on-my-knees-type scrubbing. Ew. No joke, there was Venti amounts of DIRT on that floor, invisible until scrubbed with almost an entire $5 box of unscented Gental Newborn Wipes. I gather all dirty wipes... shove them in a plastic bag... stand up... threaten the 2 older boys with my "Mean Mommy" voice and give them the "Mean Mommy Look" as I tell them to SIT AND NOT MOVE... grab the 4-5 shirts that I haven't tried on and have no desire to... and walk out, fake smiling to the attendant as I shake my head when she asked "did those work out for you?". WHICH, by the way, I must mention at this moment is one of my TOP 10 pet peeves. Why must EVERY dressing room attendant ask this lame-butt question as you're walking out of the fitting room? Seriously. If I hand you the clothes, NO. They "DID NOT WORK OUT" and, NO, "I DO NOT WANT THEM". I seriously feel like going, "Yah, they totally did! I was just handing you them because I wanted you to carry them up to the register for me!"... que retarded grin, head tilt and eye-lash flutter.
It didn't occur to me until we were in the car pulling out of the mall parking lot (almost 45 minutes later) that those fitting room walls are 1/4 CLOTH! I bet EVERYONE knew EVERYTHING that went on in there. Then, I realized.... Karma DID "turn it's back on me"....
That Biaatch.
I must admit, I made a beeline straight for Starbucks to get my Venti Iced Skinny Vanilla Latte (*yum*). Upon my arrival at the counter, I was surprised when my 7 year old, Cayden, ordered himself a Caramel Frapp which, of course, then meant that Connor, who's 3, got to order something as well. So, we all wait for our cups-of-yum and we head on to Forever 21... a store I hadn't been able to shop at for the past 9 months and one that i was looking forward to scavenging.
We got to Forever 21 and if it had not been such an ordeal to GET there that day, I would have left. It was absolutely WALL-TO-WALL people! (I had apparently not taken into account the whole "Back-to-School shoppers" thing) If you've ever been to Forever 21, you know that it's already WALL-TO-WALL clothes racks, so much so that it's hard to get through! NOW... imagine it with...hmmm... let's say... 200 people?
Usually, I wouldn't mind if people stopped to look at Chase and admire his TEENY TINY little body (at this point, he weighed less than 7 pounds!)... after all, he IS completely adorable. BUT, c'mon people. Don't tell me that you can NOT see me struggling! Seriously. So, because I'm a complete dork (but an adventurist) I decided to cover Chase's carseat with a blanket to hide his cuteness and stay to look around. I found it extremely difficult to maneuver a double stroller through the racks... "excuse me... xuse me..." seriously... I must have said that 100 times. Politely, of course.
I found about 5 shirts to try on and we made our way back to the dressing room. Guess what? 197 of the 200 total people in the stinkin' store were in line for a dressing room. Ugh. We wait... and wait... and... OOOOooo! Look at that SUPER CUTE SHIRT! Okay, so it's just like 5 feet from where we're standing in line, so I ask Cayden to stay right there, I take a LITERAL 5 steps to a rack, find my size, turn around, and find that 4 or 5 teenaged girls took the liberty of cutting in line while my back was turned. Cayden looked at me and said (loudly), "Mommy, those girls just cut in front of us while you were turned around!" I say back (louder), "Oh my gosh, Cayden. You're right. That was SO completely rude of them!" Okay... so, one thing you gotta know about me... I don't OFTEN say what I want to (at least, not to your face... I go home and vent to my husband.) So, this was big for me... sorta me "standing up for myself".
We stay behind the girls ((expecting that Karma would eventually catch up with them for their rudeness and, may I say, their ugly, Emo style)) THIS IS WHEN KARMA BECAME THE "B" WORD and turned it's back on me!
Chase started COMPLETELY SCREAMING his head off. Apparently, he was hungry and he was hungry NOW. So, I take him out of his carseat and bounce him "shhh-ing" him... hoping for the line to go QUICKLY. What do you think happens? EVERYONE IN LINE is like, "Oooooo. Look at the baby!" So, everyone turns and gathers around me STARING at my baby, grabbing his hands and his little feet with their NASTY mall-germ-infested-ness and I've HAD IT! Right then, the fitting room attendant got the hint and was like, "Ma'am... the handicap fitting room is open and I think your stroller will fit in it... would you like to use it?" (This is the part of the story where you have to imagine the skies opening and the angels singing!) Um. HECK YES... we'll take the handicap room. So, we're totally stumbling because I'm bouncing a screaming baby in one arm, pushing a double stroller [which do NOT steer easily with TWO hands, by the way] with the other and having to pause every 3 steps to redirect Cayden towards the fitting room, PAST the Emo Biaatches..... Karma, girls. Karma.
We get to the fitting room and... KID YOU NOT... Connor's like, "Mommy! PEE PEE!!!" Yah, seriously. He has to pee. I'm like, "No way, kid. You have to hold it for a few minutes." I take a seat on the built-in seat and begin to feed the baby. A few minutes goes by and Connor starts crying... he REALLY has to pee. He's, like, totally desperate. The only thing I can think of is my Starbucks cup!
"NO SHE DIDN'T!", you're thinking.... but, Oh... yes. Yes she did.
I grab my starbucks glass, take one more HUGE sip of it's deliciousness, and with the hand that's NOT holding the baby to my boob, I help Connor unbutton his pants and center "it" over the cup... conveniently, his little 3 year old "it" fit perfectily into the hole in the top of that dome-shaped lid. The boy nearly FILLED my venti glass! We busted out the hand sanitizer and called the whole scenerio a success.
It hadn't been five minutes. I'm still feeding the baby. The older boys are rolling all over the floor, looking under the fitting room walls and up the neighbors skirts, I'm sure... and in the blink of an eye, the starbucks glass goes FLYING out of the stroller cup-holder and splatters on to the floor.
......Oh, you thought I meant the pee-filled one? :) No. Cayden's ACTUALLY frappacino. And foam. And whipped cream topping. And caramel drizzle. Across the floor. Up the mirror. On the carseat. On my pants. Everywhere.
I close my eyes, sigh, pray for patience, cry a little internally at the choices I've made today, finish feeding the baby, place him in his carseat, get out the wipes and start Cinderella-on-my-knees-type scrubbing. Ew. No joke, there was Venti amounts of DIRT on that floor, invisible until scrubbed with almost an entire $5 box of unscented Gental Newborn Wipes. I gather all dirty wipes... shove them in a plastic bag... stand up... threaten the 2 older boys with my "Mean Mommy" voice and give them the "Mean Mommy Look" as I tell them to SIT AND NOT MOVE... grab the 4-5 shirts that I haven't tried on and have no desire to... and walk out, fake smiling to the attendant as I shake my head when she asked "did those work out for you?". WHICH, by the way, I must mention at this moment is one of my TOP 10 pet peeves. Why must EVERY dressing room attendant ask this lame-butt question as you're walking out of the fitting room? Seriously. If I hand you the clothes, NO. They "DID NOT WORK OUT" and, NO, "I DO NOT WANT THEM". I seriously feel like going, "Yah, they totally did! I was just handing you them because I wanted you to carry them up to the register for me!"... que retarded grin, head tilt and eye-lash flutter.
It didn't occur to me until we were in the car pulling out of the mall parking lot (almost 45 minutes later) that those fitting room walls are 1/4 CLOTH! I bet EVERYONE knew EVERYTHING that went on in there. Then, I realized.... Karma DID "turn it's back on me"....
That Biaatch.
