The Dangers of Grocery Shopping

I've been feeling good about my shopping trips.  Last month, I lugged my gaggle of four: Dani (7), Evie (5), Mase (3), and Dax (1), to the grocery store several times, with no major incidents.

This week was different.

Dani brought her new friend Moppy with us. There was a Moppy scuffle in the parking lot.  Mase wanted to hold Moppy.   After not getting his way, Mase did his usual tantrum face plant.  This didn't work so well on the hard parking lot cement.  Mase cried for a while, but didn't hurt himself too badly.

Moppy was not so lucky.  She lost an eye.

Then, there was Dax.  He decided his luxury seat in the shopping cart was not good enough.  He kept wriggling out of his buckle and attempting to stand!

It was too risky to let him out; he's a bolter.  I ended up holding him down with one hand and pushing the cart with the other, while he wailed in protest!

Meanwhile, Mase was practicing his ninja turns.  In an un-ninja-like fashion he tripped and fell.  I then, accidentally, ran over his finger with the cart.  Only one finger.

He finally calmed down.  I was still pushing the cart with one hand, while holding a crying Dax down.  I ran over Dani's toe next.  After this injury, I was more careful.  I kept hollering out, "Stay away from the cart.  Keep all fingers and toes far away from the cart."

We still had more things to get!  I thought my fellow customers (and myself!) could use a crying break.   I ripped open a package of string cheese to appease Dax, then some cookies, and finished off his shopping meal with a piece of bread.

We made it out!  

Dax cried in the car, but quickly fell asleep on the way home and slept for a delightful, cry-free, three hours!  

The rest of us had ice cream.

Grumpy Mom Goal of the Year: Do more shopping when my husband can stay home with the kids.

Happy Meal Trauma

An exciting development happened a few years back.  A McDonald's was built just minutes from my house!  I was pregnant at the time and wanting to inhale McMuffins, so I was giddy to have closer access to my craving.  

We still go through the drive-thru at least once a week occasionally.  I always make the kids get apple dippers and usually white milk. That makes it healthy, right? 

It's the toys that cause our trauma.  Here are the last two adventures:
 
Incident #1
My three-year-old, Mase, and my five-year-old, Evie, got these flapping bird Happy Meal toys.  They weren't the most impressive prizes I'd seen.

After lunch I was cleaning up.  My one-year-old, Dax, was demanding my full attention, crying at my feet.  I noticed one of the birds laying on the counter, still in it's package.  So, of course, I opened it and gave the  bird to the baby.  Worse mistake ever!

I suddenly hear a large bird-like squawk from the corner of the room.  It was my stasher, Evie. "Mom!!! You opened my bird.  Why did you do that?!?  You know I didn't want you to do that!" she cries.

"Sorry.  You didn't put it away.  I didn't know it was yours."

"It was on the counter. Why did you open it?  Why!?!"  At this point I normally would have had her calm down or go to her room, but we had to go pick up her sister from school.

I was trapped with my daughter's wrath.  "You need to go to your room because you opened my toy and you used my reindeer cup last week."

"Oh, definitely.  I will go to my room.  You just need to make sure to change the baby's diaper and put him down for a nap, and help Dani with her homework, and you need to read some books to Mase."

There was a long pause.  A hint of a smile.  "Yes."

She had forgotten about the bird by the time we got home.  He is now "missing".

Incident #2
Mase had Evie's most precious zooble (round bird-like creature) Happy Meal toy and wouldn't give it back.  Evie attempted to make a trade with a muscle guy.  Mase took the muscle guy, but decided to keep Evie's toy also and ran.  

Squawking Evie was chasing Mase around the living room.  I started chasing Evie.  It was quite a spectacle, over a Happy Meal toy?

Sadly, this toy is also no longer with us.

I've heard that some people are petitioning to have McDonald's get rid of their Happy Meal toys.  And miss out on these memories???  Never.

Grateful Mom Goal of the Week:  No McDonald's this week.  Maybe Chick-fil-A.  Their toys are not so coveted.

 An extra note:  My little red-headed Evie is one of the sweetest squawking girls you will ever find. 

Church Edification

It's...interesting...taking my four young children to church.  I always notice these families with perfectly behaved kids.  They are mysterious to me.  We are not one of those families.

And now, a glimpse at this past Sunday's experience:

Part 1: The Escape Artists
We were running late and lost out on our cushy benches.  Drat!  My one-year-old (Dax) was elated--there was so much more aisle space between the folding chairs!  He set his sights on an aisle breakout. I attempted to sidetrack him and broke out my suitcase-sized kid bag, but still, no toy, no snack,could deter him from his goal. 

After ten tiring minutes of my seven-year-old daughter (Dani) and me fetching my wandering dude, I glanced over at my husband.  He's asleep!   I have no words.  I kicked him and took Dax in the hall.  Mase followed, then decided he missed Daddy.  He went back in.  He came out.  In. Out.  I tried to hold him.  He wriggled away and went back in.  And out.

Part 2: Trickery
I had decided we all needed to go back in when Mase announced to me, and the other families in the hall, "I need to go potty."  Ha!  I wasn't falling for this old trick.

"You do not."

"I need to go POO-POO!!!!"  he growls.

"Shhhh...all right!"

After arriving in the restroom, Mase points to the toilet and proclaims, "Oh look Mom, I go poo-poo."

"You didn't even sit on the toilet Buddy."

He smiles.

We attempted to go back in the chapel and it wasn't pretty...let me jump ahead.  We all ended up, in a room in the hall.  The whole family! 

Part 3: The Tearful Finale
My husband takes the two girls back in.  Mase follows and decides to play with the door.  Dani's finger gets smashed in the door.  Really bloody, painfully, smashed.  She and the rest of our posse are back in our hallway room.  Dani is crying and screaming loudly and can't stop. "It hurts!  Ow!  It hur-ur-ur-urts!!!!"

My band-aid and magical hug were no help.  She is still a sorry (loud and crying) case.  Dax suddenly starts crying too, inconsolably.


I asked my husband to take me and the criers home!  On our way out Mase gets angry because he didn't get to open the door all by himself and...starts crying.  I'm surprised Evie didn't join in.  I considered it.

Just another day at church.

Only the middle finger got smashed.  Her other finger got stuck in her bike kickstand the day before.

Grumpy Mom Goal of the week:  Come up with some new Sunday strategies.