runaway shopping carts

Hey Mer,

Ack! We’re way behind. The people—all ten people or so—must be wondering WHERE WE ARE?!? WHAT ARE WE DOING?!?! Well, people, here’s what I’m doing: very glamorous stuff. Probably the same stuff Kim Kardashian is doing.

Lots of it involves Miles’s vomit. Cleaning it off living room chairs, toddler beds, shag rugs (oh my word—shag rugs!!!), the kitchen tile. Putting lots more stuff into the washing machine. Doing laundry, laundry, laundry. Not the DRY CLEAN ONLY, though. Oh no, the thousands of expensive DRY CLEAN ONLY garments I own will go with the butler to the dry cleaning place later. He’ll meet up with the Kardashian butler, I’m sure, and they’ll have scones while they wait for the faux furs to be finished. (I have also been watching Downton Abbey, by the way. So sorry for that.)

The other thing I have been doing is freaking losing my mind. Two incidents made me realize this.

  1. We have a mug of pens and pencils on the desk because that seems logical. What is a far, far cry from logical is the percentage of pens and pencils that can actually be used to write with. Why would one continue to house pens and pencils that do not work? That possibly have never worked? That must chant, “Hell no, we won’t… work!” (That rhyme did not materialize the way I’d hoped it would. And there’s absolutely no saving it.) This is not just in the mug either. Oh, no. The junk drawers are harborers of the same sort of useless fugitives. The pens are not even pretty pens. They aren’t pens I got on Etsy. I got them from the plumber six years ago or our stupid insurance agent. So I spent a many number of minutes searching for one that did.
  2. At the grocery store, a mom came by with one of those behemoth race-car-carts. The kind they hire the engineering dropouts to design. The kind that are supposed to be helpful but are actually a huge pain in the ass, and my kid loves loves loves them so much that he decides on the way to the store whether he wants a red one like Lightening McQueen or a blue one like Daddy’s car and a lesser-known Cars 2 character, Raoul. It is of utmost importance that we find the one that he wants, which means that I end up hauling my 19-pound, 97th percentile infant around the parking lot in her 75-pound carseat until we find the one that he wants. Either that or we have to do the temper tantrum thing, which I have no patience for these days. Anyway, Jesus was happy with me that day, so this sweet mom rolled right up to my car with this awesome red one. I put Miles in and went to get Genevieve out. But while I was doing that, that stupid race-car-cart started rolling away. The other mom helped me again. She retrieved my child from the jaws of death, or at least the jaws of running into a parked car. By now, I was feeling a little frazzled. She stood there and held the cart while I tried to jerry-rig a way for the infant seat to fit in the car-cart, because God knows that engineering dropout didn’t consider how a person might be able to fit two whole children in a seventeen foot cart with zero turning radius. I say thanks again and push back the hair that has fallen, always, into my face, even though it is supposed to be pulled back in my signature Kardashian-like ball of mess. I pull up my shirt back into place, because my nursing bra, which is the size of Georgia, is showing again. Then I drop my keys. And other mom has to pick them up for me.

Now, all of that may seem like lots of little things that are not a big deal. But hey, you’re the one who has been wondering where I’ve been and what I’ve been doing, so please don’t blame me if all I can come up with are inane losing-my-mind stories. Every part of my day feels like I’m holding on to non-working writing instruments.

I was telling my friend Kristin about all of this, and she nodded and tried to tell me that that’s life when you have young kids. That you will get your mind back someday, maybe after they start going to school. But she’s usually combed her hair when she says things like this, so I’m not sure I can credit her as a reliable source.

No, I can credit her. And it’s lucky, I think, that all these moms who now have their stuff together are kind enough to chase after my runaway shopping carts.

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9 thoughts on “runaway shopping carts

  1. I know Kristin. And I knew her when she wore eau de baby barf. She earned her combed-hair. I know the stories. Her stories made me feel better about the time I sat in my car in the garage and left my baby sleeping in her babybed while inviting complete strangers to walk-through my home while it was on the market. This was just after I almost killed us both when I hid the plastic dish-drainer in the oven, forgot about it and then turned the oven on to bake cookies so that the smell would brainwash people into thinking that my home and life were perfect. Embrace the insanity.

    • She earned her combed hair. Love that. OK. And you’re right. And, so you know, you’re someone who has saved my shopping cart many, many times. I’m lucky to know you.

  2. Been there done that on all of the above ( except for the monster nursing bra thing) but what is weird…. after a short time ….you long to have those times BACK…..

  3. This made me laugh. I love you, my frazzled friend. Ditto on hating those carts, and I haven’t ever used one…yet. If they didn’t exist, kids would not think to demand a red race car to ride in while grocery shopping. Thanks a lot engineering dropouts!
    P.S. I actually threw our loads of non-working pens out. We now have exactly two pens and a pencil that work. Heaven forbid they fall and roll under my fridge.

  4. This is great. Hopefully this makes you feel an *eensy* bit better. I too have a mug full of pens. Most of them do not work. I, however, KNOW they don’t work, so I just never even go to the mug. Instead, I use one of the three working pens that I keep in my purse (two of which were filched from the office supply cabinet at work; one of which was a gift from work for being there two years). You’re not alone on the pen thing. Really.

    Let me know next time you want to go shopping. I’d love to lug around your giant baby whilst you and Miles navigate the race-car cart. 🙂

    • I usually ignore the mug, too! I’m glad the pen thing is not just me!
      Hey– we got the Immerse journal you sent! Thank you!

  5. Pingback: what is it with the tampons? | [writing] between friends

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