Ben and I are going to a wedding today. Since the weather is going to be in the single digits I thought I would get a nice shirt to wear with pants. I knew it was a gamble right from the beginning to bring all three of the children with me to buy clothes, but I rolled the dice anyway.
We arrived at the store and before we entered I dished out my usual threats, took a deep breath and then entered. Immediately I began frantically searching through the racks knowing my time was short before Riley and George would start wrestling and knocking over racks. The tiny tyrant still managed to pull shirts off their hangers from the comfort of her stroller. The cold sweat was beginning.
EUREKA! I found it, now I had to hustle the children to the fitting room. I took a deep breath when I noticed that the dressing rooms had curtains and not doors. In the past these have never served me well. The little dictator has been known to dash out of these type of dressing rooms when I am half naked and totally unable to get her.
I said a quick prayer and entered the dressing room. I quickly yank off my top. "Mom, why do mom's get stretch marks?" Riley inquires. I am feeling better about myself already.
"Because Riley, sometimes tiny mom's have to carry gigantic babies in their bellies." I calmly explained. If the person in the next dressing room was able to ignore that question she would find it impossible to ignore the chorus my son had broken into: stretch marks, stretch marks! All to the tune of the row your boat in a high soprano and a volume loud enough to be heard throughout the store.
This shirt will be fine, I quickly decide and hurriedly pay for my purchase. As we walk outside the cool air feels nice and begins to make my hot flash subside.
Another successful shopping trip.
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