yo momma so crazy...she did that

Let me explain.

Cozy up to your screen of choice.

I mostly blame all this on the rigors of Jake's schedule as of late and the fact that we live near approximately zero family and the ever changing and evolving needs of the kids but I haven't felt in control of well - pretty much anything in a really long time. But the past 10 weeks especially.

But! There have been lots of glimmers of "is that a stride we're hitting?" lately and I don't want to jinx (Jake is big into jinxing things and he's made me paranoid) it so instead of biting off more than the child rearing, cleaning, and light (light!) meal making that devours my days and evenings and middle of the nighting, I'm just enjoying the little flashes of light that just might overcome the cloud of overwhelmed that seems to follow me and my occasional melodramatics around all day every day.

Anyway. I took the kids to Target on Wednesday because my bottle of Excedrin was woefully empty (me + Excedrin are besties...we all have our things) and even though Rad is very capable of walking he informed me that Wednesdays between 9:56AM and 10:AM17 he's on walking strike. So even though I had to carry him while holding Rhett's hand and pushing the cart that I could barely see above Beck's car seat -- it was okay.

I was only going to scope out and purchase every single kind of headache pill to add to our little collection, take a tiny peek at the clothing, carefully avoid any aisles that might contain any sort of Avengers or TMNT alarm, and see if there were any new lip glosses on clearance. But we all know that all Target trips start with the best of and the most innocent intentions.

We got lost in the Bermuda triangle of Target ie the toy aisle (why is it always in the middle of the store...) and my ill planning meant Beck needed to eat right then and when Beck wants food he's a tiny tyrant.

And bless his heart he is the the slowest eater ever to sip from a bottle and 45 minutes into his feeding he was still going, the boys were still "playing" with the toys, and my left arm was the ideal combination of numb and sweaty and my patience was almost as numb as my arm.

Because the older boys were in a FUNK that morning...and despite having access (albeit limited access) to a plethora of toys, I spent most of the time in the toy aisle breaking up the 99 fights that Rhett and Rad (HOW? Rad knows like three words) got into over not being able to share. It's mind blowing, I know, when you think that there were literally 5 Paw Patrol Chase stuffed animals in their arms reach that sharing would even be an issue. United Nations candidates they are not.

So when I decreed that it was time to go Rad pulled his right to protest and promptly sat on the floor, arms folded and giving his unjust mother the death duck lip glare. So I asserted my right as the parent to pull the this-is-a-dictarorship-not-a-demorcary card and lifted put him in the cart. Ha. He tantrumed, Rhett pushed the cart, and I continued to feed Beck. Party-hardy.

We rolled through the check-out line with my Excedrine and 3 new kinds of lip balm hopefuls, and guffawy accusations that I was lying about having three boys. (This always throws me...do people really think one of them is secretly a dainty girl dressed in her brother's clothes...a mystery for the masses I'm sure.) Rad was still extremely upset until a distinctive noise/smell/visual escaped his diaper and went falling out of his pants. Poop. My educated hypothesis was that in all of his rolling and tantruming he managed to undo his diaper.  

So.

What does it all mean? Where does that leave us?

It leaves us rolling up to the Target facilities to find the family bathroom closed for cleaning and me trying to keep and poop situation from spreading (literally), while still trying to feed Beck so he wouldn't get hysterical like his mom was about too, while Rhett thought it was a great time to go make besties with a random cashier.

Enter Jan and Bob, 83 and 85 years old respectively.

Jan: Oh my goodness, here give me your baby. You go take care of that.
Me: Really? OK. (Hands her newborn to a stranger.) Thank you, thank you SO much.

• Herds oldest two into the bathroom.

• Realizes mid poop clean up that she just handed her two month old to a STRANGER

• Instant predator-phobia kicked in.

I contained the nasty and rushed out of the bathroom to see Jan, Bob and Beck all there happy as could be. It was not my best parenting choice moment, but I was so grateful to these blessed grandparents for coming to my literal rescue. (However: I don't think it would be prudent to make a habit of random strangers babysitting my kids...because I mean has watching Law and Order Special Victims Unit taught me nothing?) Jan and Bob chatted with the boys as they helped us out to the parking lot where we separated to go to our respective parking spots.

I took a quick phone call confirming an appointment.

Found our van.

Got off the phone.

Opened the van doors. (Side note: I have a habit of never locking the van because anyone who takes a mini van, that smells like toddler must really be hard up.)

Started loading our bags and the boys

Observed that Beck's carseat base was MIA.

Noticed that Rad's carseat and Rhett's booster were also not there.

Saw the bedazzled cross hanging from the rearview mirror.

And then I full on F-R-E-A-K-E-D

This was NOT my van.

Someone else, parked in the general vicinity of our van, who left their red, Honda Oddessy unlocked now had squatters residing in their backseat.

The van's owner (also an elderly lady) came speed walking up while I profusely apologized for the modern Goldilocks and the three bears situation (someone's been sitting in MY car...and she's still here!) and dragged my brood out of her backseat. She was very understanding and we finally made it to our van where Rhett kept asking why we couldn't stay in the "fun car."

^^^Our van. I double checked.

The best part was every sympathetic-to-our-plight acquaintance we made that day assumed Beck was two weeks old. 

Admitting he was actually two months (plus!) and that I am still this harried wouldn't bode well for the sympathy card.

So. Yes.

Two weeks old.

Forever and ever.