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Tonight, after a brief stop at Baskin-Robbins, where my husband asked if I really NEEDED that 2nd scoop of ice cream on my cone, we stopped in at the Talbot’s Outlet for their 75% off everything sale.
I’m not really a Talbot’s girl, or is it Talbot’s gal? But I am a 75% off everything kind of girl. And I just found out that I am going to Blogher Business thanks to Minti and I have absolutely nothing to wear. Unless you want to count my Lucky Jeans and . . . oh, that’s it. Derek thought it was a brilliant idea but maybe he just thought that because he was still reeling from the blow he had received in Baskin-Robbins for being a dumb ass.
Suddenly The Baby was crying hysterically. I offered him the boo under the cover of his sling, but he just wanted to be pissy. His father took him and he suddenly went silent. It was the first time I hated him all day.
The Boy was off and running. Literally. His father lost him a total of 5 times in the store. I just kept pulling clothes off the rack. Not exactly the size I would like to be wearing but for $7, they are the equivalent to paper plates. I kept hearing women say, “he’s over there.” The child never stopped once. He did slow down to a jog to put on a pink high heel and a green high heel. His father let him wear them around the store for the next 15 minutes. I thought it was fascinating that the underlying fear that allowing him to wear heels will turn him “gay” was forgotten for the brief time that the heels seemed to curb The Boy’s speed.
It was one of the many moments in life that I wished I carried my camcorder around with me. Derek running around behind The Boy as he ran through clothing racks, dodging accusatory glares from women who NEVER took their 5 week old infant out to a store during a sale and who would certainly NEVER lose a child in a store.
I pretended not to know any of them. That’ll teach him to question me about my ice cream consumption again….Share on Facebook
This afternoon we decided to take advantage of the spectacular weather by heading to Old Town to rub elbows with the “haves.” Actually we were just in the mood for fish and chips.
We brought the dog. Or shall I say Derek brought the dog. I told him that under no circumstances would I be responsible for the dog. So there I am at fish and chips placing a to go order because we have the DOG and now we have to eat outside, when I look out the window to see Derek conversing with a stunning blond woman who is scratching Zinni’s ears enthusiastically. She was sporting her $400 pair of shoes and $350 sunglasses. She basically looked like every other rich overgroomed woman in this town.
K: Hey, Ethan. There is nothing quite like having a friendly dog to pick up hot chicks.
It was only then that I noticed her clearly-out-of-his-league-husband standing behind mine.
D: You didn’t actually say that out loud in the fish and chips restaurant, did you?
Not really. I thought it but then again I was in charge of TWO children because my husband brought the DOG and one of my children was determined to have COKE and to get it from the cooler himself. I was too busy to be outwardly clever or catty.
Not moments later we were walking down the street when an equally excellently dressed woman leaned over and exclaimed, “BEAUTIFUL BABY!!!!!!!!!!”
To the DOG.
Not my beautiful children, but to my Dog.
Only in Old Town…Share on Facebook
K: HEY! What are you doing putting the “Sunday” onesie on him? It’s Friday night. You should put the Saturday onesie on him now.
Mom: Who are you kidding? I’ve seen how often you change this kid’s clothes. He could be wearing this Sunday onesie on Monday still.
K: Good point.
Things you do with the Firstborn:
- Buy the Costco size Dreft Baby Detergent, use it for the recommended 12 months (and I mean TWELVE MONTHS, PEOPLE), only cheating once when you find that damn onesie underneath the bed after you washed every single eff-ing piece of baby clothing in the house.
- Leaving an establishment the second the baby started crying so that others would not bothered.
- Pull over on the highway IMMEDIATELY when baby starts to cry so that you can feed him. Heaven forbid he feel abandoned by you when you haven’t been holding him for a whole 5 minutes.
- Only drink 1/2 of a beer to ensure that baby would be “safe.”
Things you do with the Second born:
- Buy the Costco size Dreft, use it for baby clothes washed before birth, then forget that Dreft is on the top of the fridge in the basement and just start throwing baby clothes in with towels, dish rags and whatever the hell else needs to be washed because, for God’s sake, did he really need to pee on that outfit when he could have just waited one more minute to pee in his brand new dry diaper.
- Pretend that baby is not crying because, for God’s sake, we are paying big bucks for this meal and how long has it been since we’ve been out, we are going crazy, what do these children expect from us?
- Start singing “Little Red Caboose” really, REALLY loud so that we can’t hear the screaming of the children on Mile 26 of our drive and while these kids don’t look a lot alike, they clearly have the same ear-piercing scream that will make you want to lie down in front of traffic. Not traffic through a suburb street, but traffic in The City on a Friday night before a lauded opening on Broadway.
- Drink my half of the “Portions for 6” margarita recipe from cook’s illustrated cookbook that dad was inspired to make after incident chronicled in #3. Hope that baby will sleep for at least another 45 minutes so majority of alcohol can be gone from system.