Have you ever had one of those moments that is so embarrassing it reduces you to tears and hysterics? Me neither. At least...I hadn't...until last week. And I think it has taken me a full week for the hysterics to become hysterical instead of hysteria. Let me explain...
The beginning of last week was busy as usual. I was trying to find a time when I could make it to the commissary. (military word for a grocery store on base) Normally, I try to go in the morning when I only have Tyler to deal with and it isn't very crowded. I couldn't fit it in. I realized that the only time I could go was after the kids got out of school and although I hate shopping with 3 kids in tow, I figured I would just endure through it. Right before going we took Sean back to work and the last words out of my mouth were to remind him to make sure he remembered to transfer money into my account. I think I had something like
$12 in my account. Obviously not enough. Anyways, on to the commissary we proceeded. It was a mad house, and that is a gross understatement. They are closed on Mondays, so Tuesday afternoon is not the best time to go. To give you a visual of what it is like taking 3 boys shopping, I think Sean's friend Dan say it best, you feel like you are trying to heard cats! So, an hour and a half later, I am close to my breaking point but I can see the finish line ahead, we have made it to the long line where you wait for them to call out the next available register. While waiting in line, I am surrounded by 15 other calm and relaxed patrons. They are commenting to me on not only how well behaved my boys are but how brave I am to come shopping with them. You're right I think to myself, I AM a good mom. I don't need Sean here to help me! Why, I could even add another kid to the mix and be just fine! Who ever thought young boys were a handful obviously just wasn't using my expert parenting techniques!
Suddenly, I am at the front of the line and am being told to head down to register four. This is it, the finish line is within my grasp. We get to the register and the person currently there is just leaving which means the conveyor belt is entirely empty. Of course the two oldest boys start throwing all the food on the belt in a completely chaotic manner. I start imagining broken eggs and smashed hot dog buns so I frantically start trying to help them be helpful all while working as efficiently as possible. (Commissaries seem to operate in a slightly militaristic manner and you are expected to be as efficient as possible during peak hours!) Being the awesome mother that I am, my 3 year old son...well, he wasn't even a blip on my maternal radar. That's right, I hadn't given him one thought since I had my premonition of smashed eggs and hot dog buns. Then it happened. And oh, how it happened.....here is how it went....
BOOM (Like a gun shot)
AHHHHHH! (Screams - from multiple people - filling the air)
HISSSSSSSS! (A loud and strange hissing sound)
Then the smoke and white dust started to fill the air.
How strange, I thought, what is going on? It was at that moment that I looked to my right and that 3 year old I spoke of earlier, well let's just say he came screaming back into the center of my maternal radar. There he was, standing next to the fire extinguisher (Did you get that?!?!?) being surrounded by smoke and looking around with a completely terrified look in his eyes. I think it was at that moment that the horror sunk in for both of us. I was struck with the thought of "no, this can't be happening" and he was struck with the thought, "run, just get away and hide!" So he did, he ran to get away from the strange dust and to get away from all the people pointing and staring at him. I, on the other hand, was forced to chase him, pushing my way through a sea of staring pointing and whispering strangers. It was right then that I realized I had suddenly become "that mother." You know, the mother you always shake your head at and think, "I would do it SO much better" (and I am not the only one who has thought this!) I was the one with too many kids, the one who couldn't control them, the one who wasn't paying any attention to her youngest! I could go on and on.
The beginning of last week was busy as usual. I was trying to find a time when I could make it to the commissary. (military word for a grocery store on base) Normally, I try to go in the morning when I only have Tyler to deal with and it isn't very crowded. I couldn't fit it in. I realized that the only time I could go was after the kids got out of school and although I hate shopping with 3 kids in tow, I figured I would just endure through it. Right before going we took Sean back to work and the last words out of my mouth were to remind him to make sure he remembered to transfer money into my account. I think I had something like
$12 in my account. Obviously not enough. Anyways, on to the commissary we proceeded. It was a mad house, and that is a gross understatement. They are closed on Mondays, so Tuesday afternoon is not the best time to go. To give you a visual of what it is like taking 3 boys shopping, I think Sean's friend Dan say it best, you feel like you are trying to heard cats! So, an hour and a half later, I am close to my breaking point but I can see the finish line ahead, we have made it to the long line where you wait for them to call out the next available register. While waiting in line, I am surrounded by 15 other calm and relaxed patrons. They are commenting to me on not only how well behaved my boys are but how brave I am to come shopping with them. You're right I think to myself, I AM a good mom. I don't need Sean here to help me! Why, I could even add another kid to the mix and be just fine! Who ever thought young boys were a handful obviously just wasn't using my expert parenting techniques!
Suddenly, I am at the front of the line and am being told to head down to register four. This is it, the finish line is within my grasp. We get to the register and the person currently there is just leaving which means the conveyor belt is entirely empty. Of course the two oldest boys start throwing all the food on the belt in a completely chaotic manner. I start imagining broken eggs and smashed hot dog buns so I frantically start trying to help them be helpful all while working as efficiently as possible. (Commissaries seem to operate in a slightly militaristic manner and you are expected to be as efficient as possible during peak hours!) Being the awesome mother that I am, my 3 year old son...well, he wasn't even a blip on my maternal radar. That's right, I hadn't given him one thought since I had my premonition of smashed eggs and hot dog buns. Then it happened. And oh, how it happened.....here is how it went....
BOOM (Like a gun shot)
AHHHHHH! (Screams - from multiple people - filling the air)
HISSSSSSSS! (A loud and strange hissing sound)
Then the smoke and white dust started to fill the air.
How strange, I thought, what is going on? It was at that moment that I looked to my right and that 3 year old I spoke of earlier, well let's just say he came screaming back into the center of my maternal radar. There he was, standing next to the fire extinguisher (Did you get that?!?!?) being surrounded by smoke and looking around with a completely terrified look in his eyes. I think it was at that moment that the horror sunk in for both of us. I was struck with the thought of "no, this can't be happening" and he was struck with the thought, "run, just get away and hide!" So he did, he ran to get away from the strange dust and to get away from all the people pointing and staring at him. I, on the other hand, was forced to chase him, pushing my way through a sea of staring pointing and whispering strangers. It was right then that I realized I had suddenly become "that mother." You know, the mother you always shake your head at and think, "I would do it SO much better" (and I am not the only one who has thought this!) I was the one with too many kids, the one who couldn't control them, the one who wasn't paying any attention to her youngest! I could go on and on.
Finally, I got to Tyler, (thanks to a blockade of people who, I think, just wanted to see what the commotion was all about) gave him a big hug, told him no one was mad and made sure he was OK. We then made our way back to the register just in time to see them jamming open the doors and taping off the entire area with black and yellow crime scene tape, as if the moment wasn't bad enough already! I put Tyler in the cart and continued on. Jason and Jackson are now badgering me with a thousand questions over what happened and I turn to them and plead if we could please just pretend it didn't happen for a few more minutes because mommy is pretty mortified at the moment and really doesn't want to discuss it. My cashier then turns to me to let me know that although he knows I am not finding it amusing, he finds the situation hilarious and proceeds to tell me that he had been having a "crappy day" but my 3 year old just "made his day". I smiled and told him to give me an hour or so and I might agree but....not quite yet. Then he presented me with my total and I quickly swiped my debit card, wanting nothing more than to get away from the staring, the sympathetic looks and yes, the glares from the people fanning themselves and talking about how bad the dust smelled. But no, why would the torment end there? What did happen next? My card was DECLINED!! "This machine has been having problems all day" says the nice cashier. I smile, swipe my card again and tell him that while that may be true, I knew in my gut that my wonderful, hardworking, yet sometimes forgetful husband had forgotten to transfer money and that my $12.00 probably wasn't going to cover it. I was right, declined again, ran it as a credit....yep, declined. Luckily, the commissary accepts visa. The only problem I had to face now is that commissary baggers work for tips only. I pay with debit at the commissary for that very reason - I can always pull out some cash to pay them for loading my car with groceries, a service I really am more than happy to pay for! We begin the walk to the car and I think this is where Heavenly Father took pity on my situation. I knew there was NO cash in my wallet, (is there ever? If I have cash, I spend it...just ask my husband) So as we walked I frantically started searching every nook and crannie of my purse. Miraculously, I come up with $1.50. A pathetic tip, but a tip none the less. If only my bagger hadn't been one of the glaring people, previously before mentioned, she might have been more understanding. She took my money, listened to my feeble apology, and walked away. It was then that I lost it. I sat in my car, called Sean and the hysterics began. At first, he just kept saying, "I am so sorry, I am so sorry!" Of course, he was thinking that it was simply a matter of not having money in my account. I proceed to tell him everything and he seems to understand most of it through the sobbing. He tells me to come get him so he can help make my night as stress free as possible. By the time I pick him up, all he could talk about was how smart Tyler was to figure out how to remove the pin and shoot the extinguisher! When I asked Tyler, he said "mama, I just want to shoot the squirt gun!" We have spent the week talking about what types of squirt guns we never shoot and tomorrow I am going to brave it all again. Yep, you heard me. I am going to show my face once more and face my fears. I am returning to the scene of the crime (we do have to eat after all) although this time I am going in the morning with only Tyler. Never, never, never again will I shop with the three of them during the busiest time of the day!!
So, there it all is, my most embarrassing moment to date....but with three boys, who knows what's coming next!
Oh...and don't worry, I CAN laugh about it all now!
