Author Archives: shannalyn

Just Do It: May 2013

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On Saturday I ran to Delaware. It sounds like a Forrest Gump moment, but it’s honestly only 3 miles down the road.  Yet, as I crossed the state line my inner voice spoke, “Well, since I made it this far I might as well keep going.”  And so I did. I figured, just up the hill to the end of the next town.

 While running through the town, a young man who appeared to be wholly out of shape was eating an ice cream cone and heading toward me on the sidewalk. I moved to the bike lane to allow him to pass and he yelled angrily, “You’re doing it wrong!”  I have no idea if he was talking to me or someone unseen behind me but my inner voice retorted, “At least I’m doing it!”

 I came to the end of the town and thought just down this next hill.  On my way down hill, “I’m sexy and I know it” started playing. I chuckled and quickened my pace, checking the clock and thinking, “I’ve got time,” so I started the climb the next hill.

 On my way up, a group of riders politely formed a single file line while I moved to the grass to afford them more space.  We passed one another with nods of appreciation and approval. A silent “keep going” and an unspoken “you’re almost there” pushed me on.

 I reached the top and saw Winterthur ahead in the not so far distance. “Holy Crap!” I thought!  That’s awesome!  Might as well get there!  And so I did…

 I turned around at the light to start the run back thinking about where I was just one year ago:

 I was (ahem) training for the Broad Street 10 miler. I was still nursing K-Mad, had just started running in March and had yet to make it past 3 miles on the treadmill let alone run on actual pavement. Yes, I was once athletic, but not really so much anymore, though still in relatively good shape-ish.

About 2 weeks before the race I was convinced it wasn’t gonna happen so I pretty much stopped “training.”

The night before the race, my parents insisted that Mr. TheKing and I go out and they’ll watch the kids. We had an incredible time!  A great dinner, amazing drinks, followed by glow bowling and fantabulous bowling alley wine! It was ridiculous!  By the time we got home, well after midnight, there was no way I was racing.

A few hours later K-Mad woke up to eat. I gave her a bottle, (knowing there was no way I should feed her,) and looked at the clock. “Well, I should shower if I’m doing this,” I thought. And so I did.

I slept the whole way to the race. We got there and Joe gave me a $20 just in case I needed to “cab it” to the finish line.  It was a joke, with more than a hint of “but seriously” undertone.

The race started and I was doing well. Avie and I were chatting and it was time for me to slow down and for her to take off. Then I ran with Abbie & Joe for a bit and slowed some more.

I was angrivated when bands played so loudly that I couldn’t hear my own music or when my shoes stuck to pavement from Gatorade other runners had tossed, but kept going.

I came around City Hall and other runners were cutting me off to high five the crowd. I thought, “What the? I’m running here!  Do you know that guy or something?”  A few minutes later I realized that I knew him too. It was Ed Rendell.  I kept going.

I got choked up when I saw fathers standing on the side with their kids and signs that read “Go Mommy” and it pushed me to go. So I kept going.

Then I passed a sign meant for encouragement that read, “4 miles down!”  Wait…what? What did that say? 4 miles down?!?!?  I still have 6 to go!!!! I’m not even HALF WAY?!?!?!  {It should be noted that in subsequent years I realized that the lady holding the sign was standing 2 miles south of where she should have been.}

There was a cacophony of thoughts noisily running through my head:

“chug, chug, chug, puff, puff, puff, I think I can, I think I can”

“So I dug right down to the bottom of my soul, to see what I had inside…”

“Well, I ran this far, I might as well keep going”

“Just do it”

And so I did…2 hours and 4 minutes.

I could not move for a few days following the race and was definitely dehydrated, but I did it…

The run back home from Wintethur on Saturday was just plain fun.  My music was loud and my rhythm was in step. The climbs were welcomed as I blasted up them and my legs seemed to “regenerate”  heading down.

 It was a 9 mile round trip trek full of oncoming traffic, 2 quaint towns, and a plethora of hills that I cannot even guess on their incline or grade.

 I got home and checked my time: 1:40, averaging 11 minute miles, a whole minute less per mile than last year.  Not too shabby.  Bring it on Broad Street! Let’s do this!

PS: I use the Charity Miles app when I run because its just something nice to do for others while I’m doing for myself. You can use it for walking, running or biking and has a variety of charities to choose from each time you use it. Check it out here: http://www.charitymiles.org/

The Class: May 2014

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I’m standing in the cardio room at the community center on Saturday morning waiting for class to begin. I just dropped all three kids off at “kids club.”  It’s the first Saturday I’ve actually made it to class.  Weekdays are one thing, part of my routine. But Saturdays?  Pffft…I’m usually a little slower, more relaxed, and in no hurry to get anywhere. Or we’re out of town. But my favorite instructor was teaching, so I went for it.

“Cardio Kick Boxing,” she announces. The room simultaneously filled with silence, groans, and hidden excitement. I’m thrilled and ready for the torturous hour that will test my strength and prove my weakness.

I get out my “There’s a Chance this is Vodka” water-bottle and place it on the window edge that overlooks the indoor pool and take my spot.

There’s a lady who looks at my water bottle and launches an attack, shrouded by my own mistaken assumption of polite small talk, “That’s exactly why all high school water bottles need to be approved,” she hisses like a cat, claws out,  “I should know. I’m the school nurse and I approve the bottles.”  My bottle and sense of humor apparently, did not get her endorsement, but I am amused by her candidacy, and kinda feel like I should stop by detention after class.

I nod and give her a confused half smile, take a sip from my unauthorized bottle, and walk to my spot in the room.

I notice my soft reflection in the glass.  That’s enough for me. I can see my shape and form and correct as needed, and still see right through me.

The actual mirror is too damning.  There is just too much glaring back for me to stand there. I honestly don’t need to see the sweat beads, red face, and overall “I’m working my ass off” appearance in hi-def. I’ll leave that area to the ladies who somehow don’t appear to break a sweat and maintain perfectly managed hair (and makeup?!?!?!) throughout the grueling workout. How does that even happen?  (Seriously, if you are one of those ladies, please share your knowledge and secrets. Inquiring minds want to know…)

The music begins and with that, we are all in our rows pushing forward in place. I put on weighted gloves for an extra push and start jabbing. I take them off. The straps are too big and I envision one flying off my hand during a jab-cross sequence and shattering the window in front of me.

The sequences get faster and faster as the beats per minute increase.  Step-hop-knee-jab-pause-uppercut.  Step-hop-knee-jab-pause-uppercut…

The moves get more involved and more complex. Faster and faster and faster. I’m feeling awesome yet winded, coordinated yet confused.

And suddenly I’m back in middle school doing the Hora (grapevine), the running man, Kid-n-Play, the MC Hammer shuffle. I feel like Vanilla Ice: Will it ever stop?!?!?!?!  (Yo, I don’t know.)

Now we’re doing sumo squats and hooks. I’m looking at a transparent me, flinging my arms across my chest while I attempt to sit on air.  I can vaguely make out my ears protruding out of my head beneath my hat. I’m blowing out my cheeks as I blow out the air.  I focus on the outlined reflection: my form, my (not so defined) muscles, my discolored face…and I realize that I am a gorilla.

I look ridiculous!  But who cares?  Even my pigtail braids are sweating! Keep going! Oooh-Oooh. Aaah-Aaah.

We switch to a new set. I can’t figure it out. The lady next to me can’t either. We look at each other, smile, and laugh in acknowledgement. It’s like we’re uncoordinated sole sisters for a few beats. We finally catch on for the tail end if the last set…I make a mental note to remember the move for next time and forget it by the time the next set begins…

We move into Karate Kid mode. I’m wax-oning, wax-offing, doing a modified crane roundhouse type thing while blocking and painting the fence. Chop! Chop! Chopping broccolay!

The instructor asks if we need a break. No reply means we keep going just one more short set before water. The school nurse is irate. I am amused.

Three minutes to go. Just the cool down and stretch…

I glance up to see the woman from kids club summoning me…and just like that, class is over for me before it ends and I disappear to tend to other doodies…

The Belt: September 2013

Posted in Inspiration, Moments by

When I was in middle school or high school I bought a belt from The Gap. It’s a good belt. Strong brown leather with a silver buckle. Not like the cheap ones that have 6-12 months of wear in them that are sold today. No, this is mighty fine belt. Only, my belt was too big. Oops. I bought the wrong size. So Joe, my stepfather, hammered 4 more holes into the belt and I was good to go.

I wore that belt in the smallest hole for years. But as time went on, the belt had to be loosened a notch here, a few more there…

After 20+ years and a lot of living, the belt finally settled on the third original hole. It has remained on that hole for years. There are many reasons that the belt had to be loosened. None of them are excuses. It just happened, and life went on.

About 18 months ago I took up running. I didn’t take it up to lose weight. I didn’t even take it up to get in shape. I started because my sister invited me to run in the Broad Street 10 miler, so I thought, “Eh!  Why not?”

After a year of just running, I added some basic low weight strength and ab workouts. My endurance was lasting longer, my pace was quickening, my mind was clearing, and life went on…

It took another 6 months, but I began to actually miss running on the days I didn’t run and to feel almost lethargic without the follow up toning.     And without me noticing it, I was tightening the belt, and life went on…

I recently joined the local community center upon moving, just over 2 weeks ago. They have a daily aerobic class that’s actually at the perfect time.  (That never happens!) But I LOATHE group workouts. They make me feel uncoordinated, clumsy, and quite self-conscious.

Seriously, I can still free style dance circles around many people. My flexibility hasn’t wavered much since college and I can still do the running man with J-Lo  and The Fly Girls if asked.  I happily attribute my mad grapevine skills to my heritage and the Horah, and would gladly dance till dawn for any celebration be it zumba, a wedding, a dance marathon, or just for fun. Yes DeBarge, I can feel “the rhythm of the night”.

But there’s something about working out in groups…

But I decided to make this a daily attempt to try something new, to meet people, to get in better shape, the list could go on as life goes on…

Anyway, (I think) I am currently in the best shape of my life since high school. That being said, today’s class was “cardio party.”  It was awesome.  There was dancing, jumping, boxing, kicking, and an “ab lab” at the end. It’s the perfect class for me and my belt.

Yet it’s still a class, a group…as in not alone, in front of other people.  The class was pretty much split into three groups. The first were seemingly just like me: (Younger?) stay at home or part time working moms who dropped one or more of their little ones off at the “kids club” before heading to class. Looking around I knew I was in good company, and that these ladies were hard core to get rid of the infamous “baby belly” and that I could learn from them, and possibly make friend or two.

Then there were the older (middle aged?) women. They could clearly advise me on child rearing and such, but I wasn’t so sure about this class for them. I mean really, the sound track alone might be too loud.

And finally, there were the seniors, as in citizens…senior citizens, complete with an AARP card and more. What in the world?  Running, yes, but cardio party?!?!? I was, totally ready to break out my “I know CPR!  You, call 911!”

{And I wouldn’t want to forget the lone male in the class. From the looks of him, he lifts…a lot. The dancing and rhythm wasn’t so much his thing, but he was great comic relief for the instructor, and honestly did keep up relatively well.}

Anyway, heading into the class I thought, “I got this!”  But let me tell you, the seniors schooled me. I mean, kicked my arse to the curb, how the “H” are they still going when I’m so friggin winded SCHOOLED me.

I can honestly say that I cannot wait to lose another notch on my belt with these inspirational women, because they know that life really does go on…

Honestly, I don’t have a scale. I don’t measure my self worth in looks, weight, or what notch my belt is on. I think I’m similar to many women. There are days that I look in the mirror and think, “hells yeah, I still got it!” And others when I’d rather not even look because the reflection reflects my mood and glares, “come back never” even though you know to just give it a day or two…

I don’t expect, or even want, to reach that last hole in my belt again. But I will say, that with a very basic exercise routine and even more basic dietary changes (trying to keep it to what GOD/ Mother Earth for realz made, except for wine, caramel, brownies & s’mores) I just feel better & healthier.

So here’s to a happier and healthier new year! This year I challenge you to go get schooled, go get in shape, go get better at whatever you’re trying to better about you.   Just go & get it!

 

Somewhere Over the Rainbow: 12.2.14

Posted in Convos With Kids by

IMG_5665Our local community center has a Christmas tree in its lobby that the kids are naturally curious about and enamored with. They ventured over to get a close up / hands on look and asked what all the tags were for.

On the tree are tags with names of elderly folks who need or want items for Christmas. The program is called Elves for the Elderly and you pick a tag and get the item/s on the back for the person.

Bud and K-Mad wanted to pick a tag from the Christmas tree at community center for the program Elves for the Elderly. They asked me to read the names so they could decide who to get a gift for. After reading about 25 names, they both settled on Dorothy for the following reasons:

Bud: Da Wizawd of Oz was made a wong time ago so Dowothy is pwobabwy weawy owd and can’t get huh own Chwistmas pwesents.

K-Mad: Actshuwy, see needs somefing to get huh back ova da wainbow

Bud: Yeah, but see aweady came back wif huh shoes. Now we dust need ta send da pwesent fwom Pennsywvania ta Kansas, I fink.

K-Mad was also very concerned that Elphaba didn’t have a tag but Bud reassured her that she can get her own gifts because she can do magic…

Needlesstosay, my little munchkins are doing their small part to take good care of Dorothy this year and spread the magic and love around.

#GivingTuesday #Wicked-ly thoughtful #SomewhereOverTheRainbow

Running With Lady J: 7.3.14

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We left the condo at 6pm in a blur of pre-race excitement. The double stroller was packed with water bottles, jackets, and a few non-essential essentials. Bud and K-Mad were buckled in and already cheering for their big sister.

Lady J was dressed to match me, per her request, in her running outfit, pink hat, with a ponytail braid. “Mom, when I’m old enough for a phone, like 7 or 8 or 16, can I get an armband for it like you have?” She was a jumping bean of ecstatic enthusiasm, “Mom, in the race I’m gonna run like this!” She bolted down the hall to the elevator like an Olympic gymnast sprinting toward the vault.

We walked one mile down the boardwalk to the library to register for the race. Lady J was practically bubbling over and racing already. I wasn’t sure who was more excited at this point, her or I. This was our first race together and her first “distance” race.

“Mom, maybe when I’m big enough like in a year or a week I can run in a race by myself and you’ll just cheer for me and meet at the finish line, like when I’m 15 or 8, maybe 9 or 12. Those seem like good ages, ya know, when I’ll be old enough.”

We registered and I pinned our bibs on. We checked, one last time for ‘sneaky pee’ before heading to the starting line.

On our way to the line we talked about what to expect during the race and how it works. I made sure she knew that she could run ahead of me but I would not run ahead of her. I assured her that I could keep up with her, even if she sprinted the whole way, even with the stroller. And I told her there were only two rules she needed to know for the race:

Have fun & Try your best.

I looked down at her, as we took our place towards the back of the small pack of racers lining up and saw that Lady J wasn’t her usual bubbly self and any trace of pre-race excitement was nowhere to be seen.

“Mom, I’m scared,” she looked up at me and spoke with the blunt honesty that most lose as we age, “I don’t think I can do this.” Looking into her steely-blue eyes I could sense the knots in her stomach and feel the flutters of her heart.

And this was the moment. A defining moment that, as a parent, you have a choice to validate or ignore, teach or observe, be present or absent.

The. Moment.

I am generally of the ‘old school’ belief that children need to be taught to just do it, suck it up, follow through, and a whole host of other notions that modern society is just beginning to (hopefully) re-embrace.

But this brief moment deserved so much more attention than a simple acknowledgment and brushing off with a quick, “I’m right here.” or “I’ll help you.” and especially, “Of course you can!”  Although all would have been truthful, none would have been appropriate, nor what she needed to hear at that moment.

I knelt down and leaned in toward her, “Can I tell you a secret?” “Uh-huh,” she answered nervously.  “I am too,” I whispered those three little words into her ear. “You are?” she gasped in total disbelief. “Yup!  I get scared before every race. My heart beats super fast and my legs feel wobbly.”

She reached out for my hand in understanding and solidarity and lined up next to me. “Mom? I think we can do this together,” she put on her shield of bravery, “I know it’ll be awesome in the end. Let’s have fun and try our best, even if we don’t win.” “You got it,” I winked as we crossed the start together.

Lady J sprinted out in front of me, slowed to catch her breath, quickened to a jog, and walked briefly to rest. By the half way point, she settled in to a moderate and consistent pace.

We passed a few participants along the way and were cheered on by bystanders. “Go 321!” the onlookers shouted and clapped. “Who’s 321?  Who are they cheering for?” she inquired. “You, Lady J!  That’s your bib number. They are all cheering for you!”

She beamed, grabbed my hand again, and quickened her pace with pride. “It kinda makes my heart feel funny when they clap for me, Mama. Like it’s getting too big.” “I know exactly how you feel, J.”

We ran the rest of way, holding hands and cheering for those we passed. When we saw the finish line I let go and told her to go and “finish strong, J!”

Man, can that girl can fly!

“We did it, Mama! We did it together! You were great! Thank you for this awesome race and running with me!” she leaped into my arms with pure joy. Tears of pride and awe fell from beneath my sunglasses for both her achievement and her overt selflessness in her moment of accomplishment.

We high fived other finishers, offering our congratulations and stayed to watch the end of the racers finish. No one cheered them on with more enthusiasm and sportsmanship than Lady J.

Best. Mile. Ever.

The Day Off: 6.18.14

Posted in So that happened by

I took today off.

It wasn’t easy since I’m a stay at home mom and I’m down the shore, alone with my 3 young children, but I did it.

I took today off.

Just. Like. That.

There was no babysitter, no massage, no mani-pedi, no pampering, and no quiet alone time, but I did it anyway.

I took today off.

Breakfast was not served today. It was eaten in front of the television and consisted of cold hard boiled eggs, made yesterday, along with the fruit I pre-cut and dry cereal. My oldest climbed the counter to retrieve the cereal, plates and bowls, peeled the eggs for herself and her siblings, and found the fruit in the fridge. The children cleared their dirty dishes directly into the dishwasher, not my hands. I made no effort to get up from the table or put the newspaper down.  They each consumed a full and healthy meal while I enjoyed every slow sip of my coffee.

I took breakfast off.

My 2 oldest to chose their outfits and dressed themselves. They prepared their own toothbrushes and brushed without constructive criticism. They worked together to make beds and get ready for the day. They argued without my intervention and they eventually figured it all out. The only assistance I offered was getting my youngest ready, doing hair, and applying sunscreen. There were shouts, demands, and a few tears, none of which emanated from me. They were less than perfect looking children and it was a less than a perfectly cleaned apartment. We still managed to leave for the playground at a reasonable hour.

I took the morning off.

I walked down the boardwalk while the kids rode their scooters and balance bike. I didn’t carry a single child, helmet, or mode of transportation. I didn’t shout, “Stay to the right!” “Hurry up!” “Come on!” or even a single child’s name.  The kids took turns taking the lead and we made it to the playground alive, despite giving my “momscles” and voice a rest. The view and the sunshine were glorious!

I took our walk off.

When we arrived at the playground, I found a nice shaded area and sat down. I didn’t push a swing. I didn’t play hide & seek. I didn’t run all over the vast area checking on children and searching for their whereabouts. I didn’t even take out my phone to snap a quick pic. There was only the happy sound of my children playing together, playing alone, imagining and pretending, and offering one another help and directions when needed. Despite my overt lack of participation, they had a great time.  It was music to my ears.

I took the playground off.

At lunch I had them make their own sandwiches and plates. Cream-cheese or peanut-butter isn’t so difficult to schmear on a bagel, apples and bananas can be eaten without my assistance, veggies were pre-cut yesterday, and hummus is great for dipping into.  I could not have cared less about double dipping.

I took lunch off.

I left the clean, unfolded laundry in a pile, dishes in the sink, and did not return a single email, text, or phone call.  I made them all nap because it was my day off and everyone should nap on their day off, so that’s what I did.

I took nap time off.

We headed out to the beach after waking. I carried the bag of towels and nothing else. They each toted their own shovel and bucket. I set up a chair near the ocean’s edge, plopped down, and watched them play. I did not jump waves or dig holes. I did not take them out to the “floaters” or assist them in body surfing or boogie boarding. I did not take a single picture or video. I just sat and watched as they jumped waves, chased seagulls, dug for tickle crabs, clams, and China. They laughed, splashed, and made their own memories with each other at a favorite family spot from my own childhood.

I took the beach off.

We had leftovers for dinner. The microwave did all of the work. Dinner was delicious…again.

I took dinner off.

I took today off to have some time both with and away from my kids. They are my work, my worry, my passion, my deep breaths, my inspiration, my exhaustion, and my world.

I took today off: without planning, without guilt, without worry, without absence, without a substitute, without judgement, and without my own critique.

I took today off, and it was fabulous!

Success

“To laugh often and much
to win the respect of intelligent people
and affection of children; to earn the
appreciation of honest critics and
endure the betrayal of false friends;
to appreciate beauty, to find the best
in others; to leave the world a bit
better, whether by a healthy child
a garden patch or redeemed
social condition; to know even
one life has breathed easier because
you have lived. This is to have
succeeded.” R. W. Emerson

Doing the Dishes with my Sister: December, 1995 

Posted in So that happened by

Background:

During my freshman year in college my mother became accustomed to my younger sister being the only child home to help out around the house.  I returned home from Pitt on winter break to find that Avie had grown taller than me. Our childhood sibling squabbles were now under new terms given this fact, but I still had speed.  Our childhood home also had the all-important “indoor track” seamlessly attached kitchen to living room to hallway, past the stairs and back around.

What went down:

We were the doing dishes in the kitchen post dinner. Avie was clearing and loading the dishwasher, while I was responsible for the pre-dishwasher-washing. Mom had retired upstairs for the evening.  As Avie entered the kitchen, dishes from the dining room in hand, I squirted her with the sink hose and chaos & madness ensued…

She immediately took off after me as I dropped the hose and darted into the living room. I knew if she caught me, I’d be pummeled.

We flew into the hall and I used the banister as leverage to swing myself around and sprint the 5yd dash through the kitchen and back around.

She was right on my heels as she threatened me through laughter and I squealed in excitement and fear.

It. Was. On!

Kitchen, living room, hallway, kitchen, living room, hallway, kitchen living room hallway, faster and faster and faster!

Mom shouted from her bedroom at the top of the stairs, “AVIE! Are you doing the dishes?!?!?!?”

Kitchen Living room Hallway! Past the 3-D painting titled “At the Circus” Kitchen Living Room Hallway!

My lungs were heaving and I was desperate for a rest but afraid to slow!

As I Alaskan Baseballed* my way around the banister one more time I knew it was now or never!

I whipped around, startling Avie, and grabbed her sleeves, pulling hard and knotting them together so that her shoulders and elbows could not wriggle up and out…

“A-VIEEEE!!!! Do the dishes!!!!”

I quickly pulled her trademark hoodie over her head and yanked the strings so tightly that only her nose was visible and then tied the leftover string to the banister.

Avie reared back, unable to free herself. “WHAT, AM-I, STUCK-TO?” she shouted with each whip of her head. “I! Can’t! Get! Out!”

I am a helpless heap of hysterics on the floor under the Circus picture, tears streaming down my face from laughter.

“Ahhhh-Vieeeeeee! Are you playing around? You’re supposed to be doing the dishes!!!!”

“MOM! I’M STUCK!  HELP! Seriously!  I need help!”

“JUST DO the DISHES!”

It took me 10 minutes to calm down enough to untie her…I can’t remember who finished the doing dishes…

 

*Alaskan Baseball is a game played at Camp Robindel for Color War,(ahem, “blue and white activities”)

How it’s played:

1) The “batter” at home plate throws a kickball to the opposing team in the field.
2) The batters team lines up shoulder to shoulder down the third baseline and the batter circles his team.
3) Each complete circle is one point
4) Team members on each end often hook their elbows do the batter can latch on and fling herself around. 

5) The fielding team must all run to where the ball was thrown, line up, and pass the ball in an under/over pattern up and back the entire team. 6) Once they complete the passing, the batter is no longer able to score and the next member goes.

It’s hysterically awesome. (Possibly better than “paddle-ball” but that’s for another time…

Stream of Consciousness: Laundry

Posted in Momologues by

2.5.15

That moment when you’ve done all the laundry in the world because you’ve been stuck at home for days on end due to a wintry mix of snow, ice, and sick children but it’s all good because the only thing left for you to do to prepare for an almost-impromptu family weekend to our nation’s capital city is pack but then you take a moment to cuddle and put on Mr. Rogers for your newly-potty-trained child who has been potty training herself for over a year but likes to do things in her own way and time but you think, hope, and pray that this might honestly, truly, and finally be the real deal and you both fall asleep in your bed because you have a recent aversion to coffee and the kids don’t believe in sleeping when they’re sick or well for that matter so staying awake is a challenge and when you wake up you realize she’s not wearing a nap-time diaper but you don’t want to disturb her because she’s had a fever for the past 2 days and she really needs her sleep full well knowing that she will have an accident when she wakes up which is exactly what happens 2 hours later and suddenly you have an infinite amount of laundry to do…again… #shannanagins365

Stream of Consciousness: The List

Posted in Momologues by

7.1.14

I took the kids to Target. {It’s pronounced with a French accent and a soft ‘j’ instead of the harsh ‘g’ sound: “Tar-jay”, as if it may have possibly originated as a romantic and sophisticated petite shoppe in Paris, (pronounced Pa-Ree with a silent “s” as your tongue rolls the “ree”) because we’re fancy like that and besides, who doesn’t love Tar-jay?}

Anyway, I took all three kids, (because where else would they go?)  with me to get “a few” things. We were perusing* the isles for the items LEGITIMATELY on the shopping list.

{I promise, Honey, other than that one item, (which I purchased 4 of), everything REALLY was on the list…PLUS, I skipped 2 way more pricey items, thus making up for the 1 (x4) item.} (At least this is the reasoning that goes on in my mind.)

And, as a side note, Lady J had helped me write (and decorate) the list and was a constant reminder of what was actually on the list. So, so far, we were honestly, (mostly), sticking to it.

*Also, just to clarify, by “perusing” I mean that the kids had endured over an hour of actual helping to find the items on the list but we were now shopping on borrowed time and my youngest child was standing and serenading the store from the “front seat” of the cart because the buckle was broken and she can unhook herself in a New York minute anyway, while the older 2 were hanging off the side, jumping on and off the bottom level of the cart and touching EVERY. SINGLE. ITEM. we passed, all while I tried to avoid running them over or inadvertently turning sharply, resulting in a fallen child, loss of child’s toe, or toppled shelf…

Anyway, (deep breath), we were at the very end with just one more listed item to find. I could feel the tension and excitement mount as I neared the last obstacle, The Checkout Line.**

**It should be noted that The Checkout Line is an especially tricky obstacle to maneuver through with ease due to all of the tiny, hand-held, often-delicious temptations readily available for little hands to grab, but I am master of the word, “No,” and possess no less than 50 ways of saying it and actually adhering to it, thanks to those who ran the gauntlet before me and passed their skills along.

Ok, whew!

Now, I could taste the sweetness of imminent victory as I turned down the homestretch!

Suddenly, with each item we passed down the final sprint, tiny voices started trying to sell me items that were not listed:

“Hey Mom!” Lady J exclaimed,  “You should get this!  It’s oxi-clean and I hear it can really help keep our clothes brighter. It really works!”

Bud piped up, “Hey wook! Dat’s Cwowox Bweach! Dat’s fow wife’s Bweach-abwe moments!”

“Mom, I know we’re at Tar-jay,”{totally have them training for our future trip to Pa-Ree or an educational study abroad program in college} “but those stretch-kins are available at Walmart so we need to go there next because I’d really like one of those,” Lady J spewed out while practicing her not-quite-mastered negotiating skills.

“Oh! Mommy, did you awso see a Teddy Tank? I wike WEAWY wove doze. Can I pwease have one? I would put gum-baws oh candy in da bow, not a fish.” Bud advertised, batting is foot-long eye lashes and smiling his devilishly dimpled grin.

“I wike da one wif da fishy, Momma”  (Because who doesn’t love and need a teddy bear with a real built-in fish tank?!?!?!?!) “An I wike Dohnson’s baby wotion fo me skin!  It pink!” K-Mad joined in the barrage of ‘I wants’ and ‘gimmies’ with such charm and innocence that even I almost believed it and caved.

This trip was going downhill, fast, and The Checkout Line was the now only thing standing between me and having 3 children safely harnessed into their ultra safe, extra large, NHTSA & consumer report recommended car seats for a quiet drive home that would gently rock them into blissful naps with classical music and leave me with mere minutes of calm and serenity, so I chose the shortest line with the longest wait time, (what’s up with that, Murphy?!?!?!) and unloaded the cart onto the belt while the kids unloaded themselves EVERYWHERE…

Finally, (after what felt like an eternity of price checking, polite smiles through gritted teeth, silent WTFs, visible niceties, ‘no you can’t have that’s, ‘please don’t touch those’s, and ‘put that back now’s), I quickly bagged the final item, swiped my card, thanked the nice cashier lady, tossed the kids into the cart while using my mad-counting-to-three-skills and octopus-mom-arms, and made a beeline for the great outdoors known as the parking lot. 

The ride home was full of blaring classical music that did not successfully drown out the shouts and whines of three children who were not napping even a little bit. All I could think was that a trip to “Le Spa” should be in order after that trip to “Tar-jay” (but that’s not on the damn list!) 

As I pulled into the driveway 30 minutes later, Lady J promptly reminded me that we never did find that final item on The List…

#sonofa…!