The Great Pretzel Incident of 2012

When zj was a pre-schooler, I LOATHED going shopping with him.  He hated to sit in the cart, screamed like a banshee when I tried to buckle him in, would unbuckle himself, climb down and run away from me every chance he got, and he went through an unfortunate phase when he would see a man - any man - and start screaming "DADDY!!!  DADDY!!!  PLEASE COME BACK!!!  I WUVVVV YOU!!!"

Cj is a bit more laid back, and shopping of any kind is usually fun.  We shop for clothes, we shop for groceries, we shop for whatever, and he sits quietly in the cart, oohing and aahing over endcap displays, bright lights on the ceiling and pink ruffly things.   Oh, we might have an occasional run-in with an old person regarding eye color, but he really can't be blamed for that.  She totally started it.

Anyway, fast forward to one day last week.  We had successfully completed a stop at Kroger, and stop at Home Depot and a stop at Sam's Club, and I wanted to make a quick trip into Big Lots to look at their gardening stuff.  Really, it was gonna be quick.

I should have realized that cj had reached his shopping threshold for the day when he started saying "Go home now, Mama?" to me in the car, but I was blinded by the possibility of cheap things to plant flowers in, colorful trellises (trelli?) and other shiny things to hang around my house, and I really, really wanted to go in there.  Never mind that it was an hour past nap time and he hadn't had lunch yet.

"Last stop baby.  I promise.  Here, you can ever ride the horsey BEFORE we go in.  Won't that be fun?"

It WAS fun.  And even though he whined a bit more than I was used to when he got off the horse, I soldiered on.  After all, I had FLOWER POTS to buy.

And then, then as we were slowly making our way past the food stuff to the back of the store where the gardening prizes was located, IT HAPPENED.

Cj spotted a bag of chocolate covered pretzels, which just happen to be his favorite things in the entire world.

"Us get prenzels?" he asked sweetly, batting his big brown eyes at me.  Where on earth do kids learn this stuff?

"No, Not today.  We have pretzels at home," I answered reasonably, then kept walking along.  I could see the shiny yard things from across the store, and I was not going to be derailed. 

"PRENZELS.  PWEASE."  He said, this time a little louder.

"No, no pretzels today," I responded firmly.

And then it happened.  

"PRENZELS PRENZELS PRENZELS PRENZELS PRENZELS PRENZELSPRENZELS PRENZELS PRENZELSPRENZELS PRENZELS PRENZELSPRENZELS PRENZELS PRENZELSWAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" 

The shrieking was so loud and so piercing and so intense that everyone in the store immediately stopped shopping and came and stood in a circle around us to stare and to point at us and to talk about my poor parenting skills.  Well, that's what it felt like, anyway.

My attempts to shush him were totally futile.  Totally futile.  Totally.  So I grabbed the bag, ripped it open, and shoved a pretzel in his mouth.

Back when I was a good parent, ya know, before I actually HAD kids, I used to frown superiorly at people in the grocery who were letting their kids eat the box of crackers or cookies or the grapes or whatever.  THE NERVE!  Those things weren't even PAID for!

We skipped the gardening section and headed straight for the register.  The cashier never even blinked when I pried the grimy, wrinkled, chocolate covered bag from his hands long enough for her to scan.  I mumbled something vague about "low blood sugar" and hightailed it out of there.

Once we were in the car, cj promptly fell asleep, his pretzels still in a death grip in his grubby little hands.

Poor kid, I guess all that screaming wore him out.

Perspective.

Ok, I'll admit it.

I've been a bit of a grump lately.

I'm not sure why, exactly, probably some combination of sickly and puking kiddos coupled with a severe case of spring fever and not enough alcohol to drown it out, with a side of not enough time doing what I love, like reading and hot gluing and sewing and sitting on the couch eating Doritos and watching Survivor while trying to get Jeff Probst to tweet me back.  Jeff, I'm here!!!!  Right here!!!  I'm your biggest fan!!!

Ahem.

Anyway, I knew my behavior had been noticed when cj interrupted a perfectly reasonable conversation I was having with zj about why his socks didn't "feel right" and how he was going to have to by-God wear his socks to school anyway and STOP. WHINING. NOW. THEY. ARE. JUST. SOCKS!!! with "Mama, shhhhhhhhhhh. You watch your ATTITUDE!  NOW!"

Nothing like getting called out by your two year old.

Then on Wednesday, I got up, got the boys dressed and got zj off to school, then bundled cj in the car and headed to the grocery, which is NOT on my list of favored tasks.  And I was grumpy about it. Very, very grumpy.

I usually go to this other store ok, it's Wal-Mart, stop judging me, it's cheaper, but I had a couple store coupons for Kroger, so I went there instead.

On the way there, it was raining and dreary and windy, which matched my "I hate to grocery shop" mood perfectly.

I did my grocery shopping, grumbling about it the whole time - "Why do they put these displays in the aisle so I can't get around them?" "What kind of store doesn't carry cherry extract?" "$5 for bacon? Highway robbery!!!" "Cj, stop grabbing.  STOP GRABBING!!!  STOP GRABBING!!!!" - but I did it.

It was POURING rain when we left, and cj and I both got soaked.  Grumble, grumble, grumble...

It wasn't until after I had been home for a little while that I realized I had missed something major.

I got a text from a friend.  "You guys ok?" she texted.  "I heard the weather was pretty bad up there."

Hmmm...  Considering she lives several hundred miles away, I thought that was strange.  I got online and read with shock and horror that there had been four - FOUR - confirmed tornadoes in my neck of the woods - one of them just minutes from where I had been grocery shopping with cj.

And then the texts, Facebook messages, emails and calls began pouring in.  People I hadn't talked to in years - literally, years - were checking in to make sure we were ok.

And we were.  We were fine.  So fine, in fact, that I missed all the terribleness going on all around me.

But not everyone was so lucky.

Someone I used to work with lost her house.   Her roof was ripped off and her house was pretty much a total loss.

Other I know had major storm damage.

Fifty homes, give or take, were damaged and/or destroyed.

Lives were changing all around me and I was pissed about the price of laundry detergent and a poor selection of grapes.

So I don't care what you call it - good karma, divine blessings, or something else to suit you, but my family has it.  In spades.

My boys are healthy and happy.  I have a wonderful husband who provides for us.  We have everything we need, and most of the things we want, and I have a great group of extended family and friends.  My biggest worry on most days is what to cook for dinner and most of my difficult decisions revolve around whether to stay up and watch Castle on Monday nights or just to let the dvr catch it for me.  We are blessed.  And I need to remember that.

Ok, I got it.  I can be obtuse sometimes and stubborn other times, but I got it now.  Message received.

One attitude adjustment, coming right up.

Instant karma.

I drive like a little old lady.

I always obey every traffic law, never go over the speed limit, feel like a rebel when I occasionally turn right on red, and get in the lane I'm by-God going to need to be in and stay there.

I also prefer not to make left turns and carefully map out my trips and errands so as to avoid crossing the street as much as possible.

Oh, and I have a pretty low tolerance for anyone who does not drive just like me.  Pass me on the right when I'm CLEARLY doing ALMOST the speed limit?  The Fist gets shaken at you, and shaken hard.  Don't use your turn signal EVERY SINGLE TIME?  It's the Fist of Rage for you.

I'm super popular on road trips.

Anyway, the other day I was heading out with cj to run few errands, and as I was driving down the small rural road we live on, I met a garbage truck.

Now for you city slickers that's probably not a huge deal.  You just switch lanes and go on about your business.  But out in the country with our super narrow two lane roads, you sometimes - ok, usually - have to stop and wait for the guys to get the trash all dumped into the truck and then take the trash cans back across the street to the proper place.

On this particular day, however, coming up behind me at great speeds as I stopped to wait for the garbage men to finish their task, was the A$$hole.

Just in case this doesn't make any sense at all, from a logistical standpoint, I drew you a lovely picture:

It's totally clear now, I'm sure.

Anyway, as I sat and waited for the garbage men to take the cans back across the street, I could see the A$$hole in my rearview mirror.  He appeared a bit put out at having to stop, where by "a bit put out" I mean he was screaming and gunning his engine and riding right up on my back bumper.

Wow, dude.  I have places to be, too.  The difference between you and me though?  I left on time.  Not my problem that you're running behind.

So, the garbage truck moved on, and I resumed my drive - at the speed limit, of course, and the A$$hole is riding my bumper the whole way.

I tapped my brakes a couple times, quite politely, of course, to let him know I was uncomfortable with his following distance.

The yelling and engine gunning continued.

Dude, the 6 cylinder engine in your 10 year old SUV doesn't exactly elicit a fearful response on my part.

Then, as I approached a stop sign, I actually had the audacity to come to a COMPLETE stop.   It was too much for the A$$hole, who, with a final gunning of engine, went around me at the stop sign and took off like a bat out of Hell to whatever place was so important.

I continued on my way, thinking a few unkind thoughts about him as I drove along.  A few miles down the road, I saw some flashing lights on the side of the road.  Immediately thinking accident, I slowed down and carefully and cautiously approached.  As I got closer, I could see that it was a police officer who had someone pulled over.

Then I saw the car.  Could it be?  Would it be?  Really?  Oh yes.  It was the A$$hole, pulled over on the side of the road,  hopefully probably getting a ticket for speeding or reckless driving or general A$$hole behavior.

Karma.

Yeah, it's a bitch.

I just want to mow the $&(#*@!! yard already.

So, my yard... not great.

You know that one guy who's mostly bald, but has random tufts of hair sticking up at odd places all over his head, giving him a perpetually unkempt look?

Yeah, that's like the grass in my yard.

Nevertheless, it does still have to be mowed on a semi-regular basis, and at 154 Hidden Court, I am the primary lawn care provider.

Crazy though it sounds, I really enjoy mowing the lawn.  I consider it a treat to be able to be outside, doing donuts on the riding mower, ipod blasting, taking in some sun...

So on my week-before-Easter agenda was to drop the kids at the sitters, pick up a few things for Easter baskets, go grocery shopping, then come home and mow.

I accomplished all the running around stuff, then came home, changed into my lawn-mowing outfit (cutoff jeans and a tank top), got my iPod all set with good yard work music, and went into the garage to start the mower.

I turned the key.

Nothing.

Not a peep.  Not a sound.  

Hmmm.  

I turned it again, because clearly I must have been doing it wrong the first time, and this time it would surely work.

Nope.

I texted RJ.  "How do you jump start a lawn mower?"

He never missed a beat.  "There are cables in the garage.  Use the Montero (our SUV).  The battery is under the seat of the mower.  Remember red to red, black to black."

Good advice.

 After a few false starts, I got it up and running, and started to mow.  

Beautiful day, sun shining, I'm outside, Johnny Cash blaring on the iPod, it doesn't get much better... Oh Hell's Bells, there's a big stick.  I stopped the mower to pick it up and get it out of the way.  

Stick disaster averted, I climbed back on the mower, turned the key, and... nothing.

Not even a whine.

At this point, the mower was at one of the lowest and hilliest parts of our two acre yard.  No way was I going to be able to push it up the hill, so I texted RJ again.  "I'm going off-roading in The Montero to jump the mower again.  Wish me luck."

After pulling the car to the far depths of our very hilly yard, I hooked up the jumper cables again... And nothing.  I left them on.  Still nothing.  

I texted RJ again.  "We need a new battery.  Where do those come from?"  He responded with "Lowes, Home Depot, Wal-Mart... Take the old one in for a core exchange."

Uh, ok.

At this point, my time was running short, because I needed to pick the kids up at the sitter.

I did take time to change clothes so as not to be a magnet for wayward rednecks who were trolling Lowe's at 5pm on a Tuesday afternoon looking for a date.  

Ok, fast forward, battery purchased, old battery turned in, (I was lucky enough to have not one, but TWO brand new and very earnestly eager to help assist me with this), so I headed to the sitter's house and picked up the kiddos. 

Dammit.  Can't mow with the kids home.  Now my yard is half mowed, and I'm even more THAT neighbor than I ever have been...  

Suddenly I had a brilliant idea.  One quick turn around, one McDonald's drive-thru and two Happy Meals later, we we back on the road home.

This is where it gets a bit dicey.  If you are, say, a representative of Child Services, you probably have a million better things to do right now than to read my silly little blog.  If you are one of those judgey I'm-such-a-good-parent-oh-the-horror-gasp!-how-could-she-ever-do-THAT? types, you probably never should have been here in the first place.  Anyway, at this point, desperate to finish mowing my half-mown lawn, I moved the kids to the back porch, strapped cj into his high chair, threatened zj with bodily harm if he left the porch for ANY reason - Yes, even werewolves.  Yes, even fire.  Yes, even aliens - plopped a Happy Meal and a juice box in front of each of them, and I finished mowing.

It took me three times as long as it should have, because I had to make a loop by the porch every other minute just to make sure no one was dead.

Also, I did not take the time to change out of my "going to town" clothes, so you can imagine how absolutely freaking insane what that looked like.

But I got finished.

Mission accomplished.

Next time, I'm just going to let the damn dandelions win.

That one time that I stole something from the Wal-Mart.

This post is brought to you by Mama Kat's Pretty Much Famous Writer's Workshop.  And by prison.  Which is where I'll go if any police officers or Wal-Mart loss prevention representatives read this post.



Long ago and far away, I had a high-powered career as a retail bookstore manager, where high-powered equals I worked a lot, career equals I got a 15 year pin, and manager equals I was the one who got to clean the bathrooms whenever someone had explosive diarrhea all over the walls.

It was a glamourous job, filled with travel (twice a year we got to stay in a hotel near the airport in Columbus, Ohio) and rewards unimaginable.  It was leading up to one of the trips that I began, and ended, my life of crime.

Here's some background.  At this point, we had a Regional Director (read: big bucks, no actual work) who believed in building what he called shared memories, which to him meant that at a three day meeting, we got to dress up in three different ridiculous outfits and sit in meetings all day dressed like that so as to lose any shred of dignity we may have once possessed all the while being gently goaded and/or violently threatened to SELL MORE STUFF.  Ah, how I miss those days.

This particular year, Day One was to be Dress As Your Favorite Character From a Book Day, Day Two was Dress As Your Favorite Sports Hero Day, and Day Three Was Hippie Day.

Good times.

I got online and ordered one of these, ironed a red "A" on the chest, and viola, I was Hester Prynne from The Scarlet Letter.   She's not really my favorite anything, but she's totally recognizable, even to a room full of bookstore managers dressed up mostly as Harry Potter, Hermione, Sookie Stackhouse and Harry Dresden.  I really love Caddy Compson from Faulkner's Sound and the Fury, but didn't want to spend the entire day explaining who I was.  Ok, Day One, check.

For Day Two, since I have exactly zero sports heroes, I - you guessed it - got online and ordered a baseball jersey with "The Beers" on the front, and "12 oz." on the back.  Drinking beer is a sport where I'm from.  Really.  I've medaled a time or two.  Day Two, check.

At this point, I had nearly half a week's salary invested in costumes for a meeting that was designed to tell us there would be no raises that year (true story), I decided to shop for my final costume at Goodwill.  Hippies donate stuff, right?  Anyway, I found some stuff, and used my mad sewing skills, an ugly skirt and a pair of $2 jeans to create these awesome pants:

Home Ec class for the win!

I also found some ugly platform shoes that looked like they were made out of hemp for $2, a vest for $1, and I made myself a headband with the rest of the skirt.  

I just needed a few accessories and I'd be done.

I needed a few groceries anyway, so I stopped at Wal-Mart, a place I typically avoid at all costs, especially after that time I got trapped in an aisle there.  I did my grocery shopping, then wandered over to the jewelry section, where on the clearance rack, I saw a necklace something like this:

It was perfect!  And it was on clearance!  Of course, it was from the Mary Kate and Ashley line, but never mind that.  I've always had tastes that are similar to those of a twelve year old girl.

I tossed it in my cart and headed up front to pay for my stuff.  

After the madhouse of the checkout lane, I headed outside into the bitter cold to load up my car.  

It was as I was unloading the last bag into the trunk that I saw it.

The necklace, the perfect Mary Kate & Ashley hippie necklace, had fallen to the bottom of the cart and was dangling out the bottom, held only by the tag, which was wedged on the side of the cart.

And I hadn't paid for it.

I immediate looked around to see if Wal-Mart security had followed me.  Was there going to be a take-down right here in the parking lot?  Maybe I'd make the next episode of cops.  Whew.  Ok, no security guard.  What about cameras?  Surely they were watching me on camera and getting my license plate number so they could arrest me later.  Plus, they knew my name.  I paid with my debit card and they could track me with that...

Clearly, I'm not cut out for a life of crime.

Ok, think, mj, think.  What would Chuck Norris do?  

I had three options.  1) I could push the cart, necklace still caught in the bottom, over to the cart corral and hope no one noticed.  2) I could untangle the necklace from the cart and go back in to pay for it or 3) I could untangle the necklace from the cart and put it in my bag and drive off like a bat out of Hell and never shop in that store again because my picture would surely be hanging on the bulletin board with the words "Teeny-bopper Jewelry Thief - If Seen Please Detain.  Crazy, Dangerous and Poorly Dressed." under it.

I ran through all the possible scenarios in my mind.  My conscience was telling me to "take the damn necklace back in and pay for it already!" but my super paranoid side was saying things like "They're never going to believe you.  They are going to think you are some sort of attention-seeking klepto with horrible taste."  What to do?  What to do?

So I made my decision, and wore my costume with pride, and even won a prize for second best costume of the day.  

Oh, and I'm not going to tell you what I decided to do.

I refuse to answer that question on the grounds that I may incriminate myself.

Texting with my Sis.

My Sis B and I came pretty late to the texting game.  

Being simple farm girls, we believed phones to be for - GASP! - talking.

However, in the past six months, we have both gotten new, text-savvy phones (Oh, how I love you, my iPhone) and the texting, while slow to start, has gained momentum this month.

This is important stuff, people.  Pay attention.

Also, it's important to note that my Sis B is a rabid yard saler, and takes my Mama almost every weekend, come rain or shine or snow...

Also, we do spell everything out and punctuate correctly.  We are nerds.  Deal with it.

Also, she will probably never text me again after reading this.  Just sayin'

October 1, 2010 4:32pm

ME: Any good finds today? 

B: Not a lot, but we didn't stay out long.  Mama found a table for a dollar.  That was pretty good.

B: Oh, and two hula hoops.

ME: We don't need any hula hoops.

B: Neither does she.

B: Oh, and I found a man.  I didn't get his name, though.

ME: Oh dear.  Did you at least get his number?

B: No.  It was a short romance.  Ended when I went to the bathroom.

ME: Oh dear...

B: It's ok.  I just loved him a little.

October 2, 2010 6:49am

ME: I was thinking about making a Sonic run before I meet you guys today.  You kids need anything?

B: They don't open until 9:00.

ME: 9? Really?

B: Yeah. Really. Don't ask me how many times I got there at 6:30 before I figured it out.  Remember, I had to study harder in school.

October 3, 2010 11:32am

ME: You kids yard saleing today?

B: Yep.

ME: Kinda cold.

B: Yep.
B: We're in Lewisport.  Kinda cold.

ME: Finding anything?

B: Not much.
B: Got a free camera though.  I must look bad or something.

ME: It's probably your hair.

ME: I ran into D (former boyfriend's sister) today.

B: Did she recognize you?

ME: No.  She kept looking at me like she thought she should know me, but I was so busy twitching my face around and trying to avert my gaze from M (former boyfriend's mother) that she probably thought she remembered me from drug court or something.

B: Was she in drug court?

ME: Who knows?  But I really didn't want to spend the afternoon playing catchup with them. 

ME: You understand, right?

ME: It would be like you catching up with the B family (her former boyfriend's family), except these people aren't all dead like the B's are.

B: I did see him (her former boyfriend) that one time...

ME: He sure was hot.

ME: And such a gifted musician.

ME: It's a shame about that leg, though...

B: I know.  I can't believe I let him get away.

October 8, 2010 8:33am

ME: Mama said you needed to do some work in your garden but you hadn't done it yet.

B: I'll do it today.

ME: When?

B: I'll do it today.  This afternoon.  I promise.
B: If not today, I'll do it this weekend.

ME: You're running out of time.  Your vacation is almost over.

B: I still have Sunday afternoon.

ME: Isn't Monday some made up holiday?

B: Yes, but I have to get my eyes checked that day. I. Have. To.


October 9, 2010 5:00pm

ME: What time are you going to get here to pick these kids up?

ME: Soon, I hope.

B: Oops.  Did I forget something?

ME: Yep, you're late.  Better hurry.

ME: I can't believe you forgot.  I've been telling the boys all day that Aunt B would be here at 5.  They will be so disappointed.

B: They will be disappointed?

ME: Devastated.  If you leave now you can make it by 6.

October 9, 2010. 5:44pm

B: I just boiled an egg for Mama.

ME: How did that go?

B: Good, thanks.

October 10, 2010 1:59pm

ME: If you would like to come hold my baby on your lap indefinitely, I will do your gardening.

B: Hmmm. I Might do that.

ME: When can I expect you? He's getting heavy.

October 11, 2010 8:32am

ME: Are you en route to get your eyes checked? If not, you better get going.

B: No, I've almost decided to wait till tomorrow after work.  I hate to leave the comfort of home.

ME: No no no no.  You said you have to.  Get your ass up and do it.  Btw, how's your garden?

B: I like being at home. Really. Garden is not done yet.

ME: I cannot abide a lazy person.

B: I'll get some work done today.  I promise.  I might wash the house again.  Stupid dead bugs.

ME: It's your last day off.  Try to be productive and not waste it.

B: Thanks for the reminder.

ME: I'm here to help in any way possible.

B: Yeah, I've noticed that.

October 11, 2010 11:03am

ME: I may need an intervention.  I can't stop buying cute clothes online.

B: Does RJ know you are spending the grocery money on clothes?

ME: He's still eating.  He doesn't need to know.

B: And that you're online all day when you should be watching his kids while he's hard at work?

ME: I shop from my phone.  Cj is on my lap right now.

ME: Maybe I need a pool boy.

B: Make sure he doesn't speak English.  I hear that's the best kind.

ME: I don't take with foreigners.

B: I heard about that.

October 12, 2010 6:29pm

ME: How are your eyes?

B: Oh, I put it off again and got a haircut instead.

October 14, 2010 5:35pm

B: Are we still speaking?  If not, please disregard this message.

ME: Yep.  But I was afraid your eyes had rotted out so I haven't texted you lately.

B: I'm going tomorrow.  Really.

October 15, 2010 6:28pm

B: Eye exam. Check. Was just a little rotten.  Not very much.

ME: Oh good.  I was getting worried.  I really don't want you to go blind.  Because then we'll have to put Mama in a home.  And they don't have yardsales in homes.

Sending the kids to the sitter to run errands: priceless.

The number of things I needed at the grocery today: 4

The number of children who accompanied me to the grocery: 2

The number of things I bought at the grocery: 39

The number of things zj put in my cart without my knowledge: 8

The number of things zj put in my cart without my knowledge that were branded with a cartoon character: 7

The total amount I spent: $125

The number of times I said "Zj, please don't touch that": 6,113

The number of times I said "Zj, please put that back": 4,359

The number of times I said : "Zj, please don't climb on that": 3,760

The number of times I said the generic "Zj, please stop" 11,456

The number of times I looked at or interacted with cj during the entire trip:  2

The number of strangers who looked at me with a mixture of amusement/pity/scorn/relief that they were alone: 46

The number of gift cards that zj knocked off a display rack: 368

The number of employees it took to clean up the gift cards: 2

The cost of sending the kids to the sitter so I can run errands: priceless.