I will not take that boy to the store with me again.
I knew I should have gotten the marketing done before Friend Husband left town but something else was always going on and I didn't. With the larder needing fresh food, I finally girded my loins and committed to going to Sam's and the grocery today. The plan was to go to Hobby Lobby & Sam's first, then drop by the house to unload cheese and whatever else I got at Sam's. Then I'd round up whichever Big Sisters wanted to go to the grocery store and head out. I should have known it wouldn't be that easy.
We headed out to Hobby Lobby and we were about halfway there when David started urgently saying that he had to go potty. I told him that we were almost there and he needed to hold it. He kept up the litany, increasing in frequency and volume the closer we got to Hobby Lobby. I was, of course, the ever-patient mother who said, "Now, dear, we'll be there soon," in a calming voice, which helped immeasurably. Oh well, I can't put anything over on y'all because you know me. I wasn't very calm until I remembered, "Oh yeah, I'm the grown-up. I guess I need to calm down." Soon after I started talking to David matter-of-factly and quietly, silence descended upon the interior of the van.
I've been a mother long enough to know the difference between a blissful silence and an ominous silence. This was more of the latter type. I said, "David, did you pee in your pants?" The silence could have been poked with a bamboo skewer and carved up. Finally I heard a small voice in the back of the van say, "Are you going to spank me?"
"Did you pee?"
Deep sigh. "No, I'm not going to spank you."
At that, we pulled into the Hobby Lobby parking lot, farther away than I normally park, and I assessed my options. Perhaps he just leaked a little and we can do a little white trash shuffle as we have done before. When I opened the door to get him out of his booster seat, I realized that he had let go of everything. And that boy certainly has a bladder. He. Was. Soaked.
I pondered my options. I did not want to go back home, change, and start again. I wanted to go into Hobby Lobby and take advantage of their knitting needle sale, so going home and not leaving at all was not an option either. It goes without saying that I didn't have a change of clothes for him in the car. I finally told him to take his pants off and I tried to squeeze as much out of them as I could, then put them back on him. Then he complained that they were wet. Newsflash here, pal, you PEED in them. They are, in fact, wet. Deal with it.
On the way into HL, one of them announced that they had to go potty. We headed back into the store and, after a false start, finally located the restroom. When we got in there, I told David to stand in a stall, then give me his pants. I took them over to the sink and proceeded to wash them, with soap, in the sink. After squeezing them out as well as I could, I took them back to David. I said, "Dave, these are going to be very cold. You are going to have to deal with that. At least they aren't full of pee anymore." From the look on his face, I'd say they were very cold indeed. I couldn't summon up much sympathy for him, I'm afraid.
As Keziah was washing her hands, she commented conversationally, "Mom, my panties are coming down." I thought she was kidding and told her so but sure enough, just as a fellow shopper turned the corner of the stalls to the sinks, her pink panties slid down her legs to rest on the tops of her pink sneakers. Of course, the fellow shopper just smiled widely as I was attempting to figure out what was going on. It seems that the elastic in the waistband just gave way and there they were, a pink puddle on her shoes. To her great dismay, I plunked her into the basket while her brother got to hang on outside the basket. When her wails became louder and louder, I cheerfully sang to her, "I wonder which stick I have in my purse? I wonder if it's the big one or the small one?" When she calmed down to consider the finer points of those questions, I told her, through gritted teeth that she had to sit in the basket so that her panties would stay on while we were in Hobby Lobby.
We made it through HL pretty quickly. I even got a good deal on a partial card of knitting needles. I needed 5 needles and they only come 4 to a card. The only other card in that size had only 3 needles in it, so I took it up to the check-out, explained the situation and asked if they could give me a discount on it. Not only did they give me a discount on it, but they also gave me the 40% off deal that went with the knitting needles this week. Cool beans!
Then we're off to Sam's. David announces that he has to go potty again. Fine. We march our happy selves into the restroom at Sam's and do our business, then get a pretzel because it's lunchtime and we're hungry. We also got a lemonade.
Yes, I know I am stupid. Wipe that smirk off your face. I was thirsty!
So we get about halfway up the aisle and David announces that he has to go potty. Again. I looked him in the eye and said, "No. You don't." He commenced what we call his "Hansen Dance" and I realized that he really did. I guess sopping wet sweat pants don't do much for your ability to hold your bladder. We schlepped back to the restroom where we again took care of business and commenced our shopping.
Interspersed with all these restroom trips were totally needless calls from home, asking one inane question after another. I did manage to keep my voice sweet and light but I was not a happy camper. I also got waylaid in the middle of the meat section by a woman who wanted to know all about the twins, where they were from, etc., and wanted to tell me what a blessing I was. I'm thinking, "Lady, you have absolutely no idea. Heh. And that's a good thing."
Finally, we're getting to the end of the shopping. We were on the far end of the store from the restrooms. You guessed it. He had to go. Again. I was unable to believe that he had to go yet again, but he did. His wails of need became progressively louder as we quickly made our way through the store. I snatched him out of the basket and propelled him toward the women's restroom as I was attempting to get Kez out of said basket. He ran in, found a stall in the center of the row, and let fly. I stood outside his door, holding it shut for him, until he locked it himself. I thought Keziah was settled in her own stall until her little face peeked out and announced, in clarion tones, "Mom! It stinks in here! Why does it stink in this bathroom?"
Seeing as the source of the stink was still there, washing her hands, I tried as hard as I could to be calm and informative as I said, "Keziah, what do we do in here? We pee and poop. Poop smells. That's why it smells in here."
"OH SOMEONE POOPIED IN HERE AND THAT'S WHY IT SMELLS?"
"Um, yes, now go do your business."
Meanwhile, David was finished and trying unsuccessfully to get out of his locked stall. I attempted to talk him through unbolting it but he seemed unable to comprehend that the same bolt he drove home before would be the bolt he'd have to shove, in the opposite direction, to get out. A fellow shopper again stepped into the breach and got into the next stall to try and talk to him under the wall. Eventually (and by that I mean after five minutes), he finally managed to unlock the door and free himself from the stall-prison.
As we were doing that, Keziah was down the row and I heard her announce in her trademark loud, clear voice, "Mom! I'm having a problem with the toilet paper down here!" I peeked into the little crack between the door and the hinge and saw that the tp was not attached to the holder and my tiny little girl was doing squats with a full industrial-sized round of toilet paper. I told her to put that one back and use the one that was atop the holder. She proceeded to try to put that one on the proper place on the holder (something that she, of course, never does at home), whereupon I instructed her to "just take some off the little roll and leave it on the holder like it was."
Silence reigned in the restroom for a time until, after my routine query, Keziah answered, "Yes, Mommy, I'm wiping! I pooped and pee-ded!"
I looked up to see three of my intrepid shoppers laughing uproariously at which point David joined in. That's when my Lamaze breathing kicked in. (Breathe in, hold it, breathe out. Again.) We finally got Keziah to wash her hands and I noticed another mother with small children getting into one of the handicapped stalls. Her little girl peeped under the stall wall into the next stall and her mother snatched her up and said, "Leave Grandma alone!" We left to the stimulating (and reassuring) chorus of, "Are you in there, Grandma?" "Yes, honey, I'm in here."
After getting the twins buckled into their seats and the food unloaded, I gave David the hairy eyeball and told him that under no circumstances was he to tell me again this trip that he needed to go potty. Of course, at that point, he had to go. Yes, again. He indicated that we should go back into the store and I said, "Oh no you don't." I pulled the remaining 2 wipes out of my plastic wipe box and held it in front of him. Yes, I am in fact, white trash, but there was no way short of imminent nuclear annihilation that I was going back into that restroom this afternoon. I was shaking a bit as I got into my seat and then I heard him ask, "Are we going to Meijer now, Mom?"
Not on your life, pal.