She's Got The Look

I dropped Kiddo #2, now snoozing in this carseat, off at the house with his (also snoozing) father. Kiddo #1 and I had about 10 million errands to finish running-- Kiddo #2 clearly didn't care for our schedule after stop 3, because he was snoring like a hibernating grizzly bear.  (possibly snoring because he's coming down with something-- he doesn't normally snore and also he doesn't normally fall asleep randomly. Geh.)

"Can you bring me a blanket when you come back, Momma?" I stopped and considered that perhaps, even though it's 900 degrees today, plus humidex, I had the car a little too chilly.  I returned sans enfant, et plus une couette. I asked her, "Kiddo #1, are you cold?" and she said, "Oh no, Momma. It's 900 degrees, plus humidex. No, I'm going to put it in my window for the sun."

So I said, "So, who taught you how to do that amazingly smart thing?" She giggled and said, "Oh. Uh, I dunno? I forget."

Whatever. I wish when she couldn't remember, and the thing she did was awesome, that she'd just give me random credit. I don't remember a dang thing I did 10 minutes ago, so I'd be quite, happily surprised. Heck, I might even be touched or proud or something-- who knows the emotional limitations of my astounding lack of short term memory?

Off to Superstore we bopped.  I turned up the iPod and we sang and danced; we were having so much fun, in fact, that I took the long way to the store. It took us 45 minutes to get to Superstore today and it's usually about 7 minutes, give or take a red light.  Good thing gas is so mega-ultra-cheap. Ha.

We sang about bad romances, a girl who'd like some guy to call her, maybe, the new one from Train and some One Direction. When she busted out the lyrics for "Little Talks" (Of Monsters and Men) I paused the song and said, "Like, where did you ever learn the lyrics to this?" and she giggled, "Oh. Uuuuh. I dunno? I forget. Also, can you play "Paro-paro-paradise" by that one band?"  So off to Coldplay-land I went.

When we arrived, Kiddo #1 insisted on driving the cart while I did the picking out of things.  It was actually kinda cool; with her loss of tooth has come great responsibility. She wants to push the cart, take care of her brother-- last week she was so sure of herself, I let her call our Internet provider and negotiate a better rate. We're now getting unlimited Internet with 2 iPads "thrown in" for $12.99 bi-annually. I know I'm just making my life harder when she's 16 and wants a car, but I figure the money I save on Internet can be put away for said automobile. Win-win.

Yes, I'd like infinite refills, please.

 We were in the grocery store about 15 seconds before Kiddo #1 was dancing and needed to go to the bathroom upstairs by herself STAT. I watched her disappear upstairs. Outwardly, I pretended to be intently checking out the tootsie rolls, marshmallow strawberries and other random stuff the grocery packs around the only stairwell to the customer bathrooms. Smartie-pants marketers; you know parents are going to be hovering in that area pretending to be buying stuff while their young, baby, kids go upstairs all by themselves to go to the bathroom all by themselves, and these parents are gonna have to do something to avoid having a complete panic attack all by themselves.  So, why not surround us with the ultimate junk foods? Genius.

Comfort Chocolates aside, I have her down to a 4-minute bathroom break, even though there's only one way up or down. I saw this one CSI once where very bad things happened in a bathroom and I can't get the image out of my head every time she has to pee in a public place. Honestly. (oh, and I was so freaked out by that 5 minute clip that I couldn't watch the rest of the show to see how it ended, so for all I know the nasty guy is still out there lurking AHHHH!)

At what point does parenting get less insane? Like, at 8 do we finally get to not worry that they're going to be attacked by killer bees on the way to the park?
Or is it 18?  28?  88?

And if it's any of those "adult" ages, why does parenthood not automatically come with a lifetime-sized bottle of anti-anxiety meds?

She returned right on schedule and off we trotted.

Remember these little delicacies? 

"Momma, is this garbage or good?"  she said, pointing at one of those plastic fruit-filled with sourish-sugar. I raise an eyebrow and repeat the question back to her. She giggles and says "GARBAGE! Good, delicious garbagey goodness!" and laughs.

She pushes the cart and we head toward the produce section. When she ran into my ankles, the first three times, I smiled and asked her to please watch out for other people when she's pushing the cart. When she whined a "Please can I get a bologna?" at the deli I took a deep breath and reminded her we don't ask for things with whining.

When she got crazy in the cereal aisle I calmly looked at her and said, "This is inappropriate. Please stop or you will get a time-out."

Also, to reiterate a whole other blog (http://doescoffeecomeinbucketsize.blogspot.ca/2012/04/fake-moustaches-and-soccer-practice.html), why is the cereal aisle the boiling point in any grocery store visit? I've tried running through them, I've tried pretending it's a whole different aisle (which makes me look like a lunatic, btw), I've tried just not going down the damn aisle at all-- doesn't matter. The kids can sense the Fruit Loops and Choco-Sugar-Smacky-Explosion cereals and Lose. Their. Minds.

So, we're in the dreaded cereal aisle and Kiddo #1 starts about how she'd like a Kinder Egg. I say, "Oh, no not today, baby. I appreciate that you'd like a treat, but today our treat is hanging out together."

I swear she rehearsed this next part.

Kiddo #1 covered her ears and said, "If I don't get a Kinder Egg, I'm going to start yelling."
I ignored her and pretended to read the back of a Fruit Loops box.  "I SAID, if I don't get a Kinder Egg, I'm going to start yelling!"
I continued to ignore her (a little because I don't  really know what to do and a little because I had no idea how much complete GARBAGE is in Fruit Loops).  She taps my arm (gently), then quickly re-covers her ears to say, "If I don't GET A KINDER EGG RIGHT NOW, I am going to get very CROSS and YOU WILL GET IN TROUBLE."

Nice. Not bad. Pretty good parenting on her end, I must admit.

I start pushing the cart toward the next aisle as Kiddo #1 digs in her heels and says (just as we pass a hip looking granny) "I am CROSS. You are getting ME a KINDER EGG or else."  Granny raises an eyebrow and gives me what I've decided is the "We've all been there" look, which is very easy to confuse with the "I'm judging the SHIT outta you right now, and sister, you FAIL" look.

I believe strongly that the former exists so I can stop with the shame and ulcers.
Whatever lets you sleep at night, non?

At any rate, I turn the corner when Kiddo #1 ups the ante. She says, quasi-loudly, "In fact, IF YOU don't GET ME a KINDER EGG, I. Will. ..."

I inhale slowly so as to savour the next few words.

"I will not share my children with you in the future."

Say what say what? "Puh-Pardon?" I say, rapidly blinking the way Madonna does and now I know she blinks like that because she's completely astounded by the statement she just heard.

"You heard my words. I will NOT share my CHILDREN with you in the FUTURE."

You. Won't. WHAT? I break down into hysterical, sobbing, laughter. I was bent over the shopping cart, tears streaming down my face and there she was, hands still on her ears, eyebrows pinched together and smirking. Then laughing while trying to pinch her eyebrows together. Oh lordy.

The two of us were laughing to hard that the hip granny arrived on the scene to give me the "We've all been there" look again, only this time, it might have actually meant that.

When I finally composed myself and stopped replaying the incident in my head and re-busting out in laughter, I said, "Like, for reals, where did you get that thing about the children?"

"Oh. Uh, I dunno. I forget. Momma, let's sing that paro-paro-paradise song."

We sing our hearts out and I briefly consider getting her that damn Kinder Egg but hip granny is in the next checkout lane giving me the look.

You know the one.