Tuesday, June 2, 2015

Squatting in Target

So once upon a time, we ran out of toilet paper, baby formula, cat food and dog food. It was dark days in the Strand house, and apparently I am the only one capable of solving all of our first world problems. In order to solve these problems, it was clear I was going to need to make a run to Target.

Scary, because when I go unsupervised to Target I walk in with coupons and a list and walk out with a cart full of crap I don't remember putting in my cart, or remember the rationalizations I told myself that made me think we absolutely needed it. Then Matt gets all judgey when he asks questions like, "why do we own five boxes of glow sticks?" and I'm like, "It was in the dollar section- OBVIOUSLY that's a good deal."

He doesn't understand that sometimes, five boxes of glow sticks is absolutely necessary.

Anyways. 

So I deliberately waited until after I had fed Penelope. She has this super handy thing where in the morning, if you feed her, you have exactly three hours to do something until all hell breaks loose and you need to feed her IMMEDIATELY otherwise she turns into a very scary baby. The girl doesn't play with her food. She wants it, and she wants it five minutes ago. 

I fed her. I changed her. I burped her. I got her sound asleep. We then drive to Target. All is well. 

All remains well until I have gotten to the baby formula aisle and put what I needed in the cart. She starts to kind of cry. I'm not worried, I'm sure that if I rock the cart a bit and hold her pacifier in, she'll go back to sleep. 

Cue really rude woman. 

You see, the baby food aisle is also the aisle with razors, which seems odd, but I let it go. The following conversation takes place: 

Rude Woman: Um, do you think you can move? Like just move the fuck down the aisle? You're taking half of it up. 

Me: *blank stare as I'm now holding a screaming four week old and bouncing like a maniac* Excuse me? Does it look like I'm blocking the aisle for fun? Jesus. 

Rude Woman: You know, not everyone appreciates babies. And you could always go home until it calms down. 

Me: *deep breaths and reminding myself I can't go to jail because I do not have money for bail* Yeah, I get that. I also get that that babies cry and I haven't had any sleep in 48 hours so I'm probably the LAST person you want to fuck with today.

THANKFULLY, Rude Woman huffed and left. Except Penelope continued screaming. At this point, I have two choices: pack it up and go home, hopefully coming back later or toughing it out. 

Since by baby number three, you are supposed to be a professional, I decide to tough it out. So I cover her with a blanket, and I hold her with my left arm. Then I proceed to push my cart with just my right hand, all the while I'm doing lunges all through Target. Because apparently, lunges calm her down. She'll stop crying if you do squats or lunges, so I go with that. 

I proceed to lunge all the way through Target, grabbing the things I need. I will say that lifting a 26 pound box of cat litter with one hand into a cart that comes up to my boobs is a bit tricky and I thought for sure I'd throw my back out, but I managed. 

Then? Then Penelope fell asleep. I got a bit cocky and thought maybe I'd have time to get some new underwear since Twinky has eaten four more pairs and it'd be nice to have something not totally stretched out from my pregnancy ass. But no. No, new underwear wasn't going to happen. Because Penelope started screaming and I had to pick her up again. I decide to cut my losses and check out before someone thinks I'm stealing someone's baby. 

By the time we check out, I'm trying to wheel my heavy cart to the van, on a windy day no less, with one hand, with Penelope screaming. Yes, I'm still doing lunges through the parking lot and my thighs are burning and my legs are quivering, the arm holding Penelope feels like it's going to give out and I'm sweating around my boobs. She continues screaming. 

Do you think anyone in the lot, clearly staring at me to see what exactly was going on, would come over and help me get the bags (and very heavy cat litter) into my van? 

No. Not one stupid person offered to help. Which is ridiculous. 

I frantically hurry to get it in, I'm getting Penelope back into her car seat as fast as I can because I'm hopeful that turning on the Arctic Monkeys cd again (she likes it) will calm her down. I drive home quickly once I realize that oh snap, I was gone TWO HOURS and it is now feeding time so the wrath is going to kick up a notch. 

The best part? By the time I get home, she's fast asleep and then slept for another two hours. 
It's a good thing she's damn cute. 

4 comments:

thotlady said...

Very cute. I am a bit surprised someone didn't help you with your items.

Elizabeth B said...

First, definitely lucky she's so cute. Remember days like this when she's fifteen and rolling eyes and slamming doors. At least crying in discomfort isn't personal.

Second, did that woman really tell you to move the fuck out of the aisle? In Target, she used that language? I talk like that, but not to strangers.
Third, I'm not surprised no one helped. I'm handicapped and I've actually had people cut in front of me when someone is holding a door or close a door behind themselves when they've obviously seen me following.
Maybe someone else in your house needs to learn the joys of Target runs because I definitely think bargain glow sticks are a necessary item.

The Flynnigans said...

No one helps anyone these days; everyone has god damn blinders on and figure if I don't acknowledge it, it isn't there. Sad sad sad.

I love how rude bitch called Penelope IT. Yep, she's an IT, you twat waffle!!

middle child said...

Rude woman must have thought she was at Wal-Mart.