We were invited to speak at a Very Important Meeting, with Very Important People attending . . . which creates the Very Big Problem of WHAT TO WEAR?? The beach t-shirt and faded shorts that I usually wear won't work . . . my one good pair of jeans won't work . . . what about the dress I picked up on clearance at Target? No, my husband was right, it really does look like a choir robe . . . after digging through my closet I finally emerged all pulled together and dressed for suc-cess! Tasteful pants and top, both picked-up at a Goodwill thrift shop somewhere, and a cute red purse that I'd grabbed for 25 cents at a garage sale last year. Classy? Ohhhh yeah.
Another rare occasion, I happened to be going somewhere alone, and decided that the giant canvas diaper bag number I take everywhere was a bit excessive, so I decided to transfer some items to a smaller purse. Dumping out the contents of my big bag I found:
one Eric Carle board book
a plastic lobster
a plastic gecko
one lost sheep left out of the Christmas Nativity box
a pink stuffed poodle
a tupperware bowl with stale goldfish
three cell phones: one plastic, one finally dead after much abuse by little people, one recently and painfully purchased.
a green tractor
a mess of coupons
diapers, wipes, lipgloss
. . . you know, just the essentials.
Have I told about the time I was doing some SERIOUS couponing at CVS with the girls, and before I knew it Sami had tipped the cart over with Annie IN it!? It's hard to appear in control while lifting a cart off of your toddler.
Today, I took the girls to our Amish bulk food store. I go here to shop for things wholesome AND thrifty, like dried fruit and oat bran pretzels, so I can feel like a good mom, the kind of mom who is conscientious, and who knows about things, important things, and a cool mom, the has-it-all-under-control-mom, whose well-behaved children wait patiently while she reads box labels and searches for flaxseed- kind of mom . . . the problem is, this particular store also has little shopping carts for kids. And now that Annie is all-opinionated already, she feels entitled to push one too. And the store is small. The aisles are tight. And by the time we left it was lunchtime at the factory next door, and quickly became very crowded. We couldn't move, because we were each pushing a cart, and my well-behaved children don't listen to me and were both going in opposite directions, while I got glares from every side. Then, my well-behaved children ran away while I was checking out, and I became blocked-in by a cart behind me. More glares. I could not get them and our all-natural groceries out the door fast enough.
. . . They both fell asleep in the car, so I could head straight to McDonald's for a really-really-bad-for-me-but-much-deserved iced coffee.
Then, there are moments like this:
Sure, being a stay-at-home mom isn't glamorous, often humbling, never boring. You know what? I wouldn't change a thing.