Too Much Ambition = Need for Bar of Soap = Probably Need A Nap

Miss A & E are going on a little vacay with Super J and his dad in a few days to visit some church history sites. They are all very excited, even though it means many hours in the car. It also means that I'm trying to pack interesting things to do for many hours in the car for Miss A & E, in addition to sunscreen and bug repellent. THIS means a trip to Target to get some supplies (and because they have this mascara that I want to get, truth be told. UPDATE: got the mascara, tried the mascara. Do NOT like the mascara. Ohhhhhh-yuck. Revlon 3D mascara comes out way tooooo clumpy and gloopy. I look like Tammy Faye Baker Messner, may she rest in peace, for those of you who remember her).

So. Why not go right after swim class, I reason to myself? I can save gas by not coming home AND we can just get these errands run and then BE DONE with them. It sounds so good, especially since Miss O and I are done with that Mommy & Me class, so I will not be soaking wet and utterly exhausted. Ha! However, we still dress in the ol' swimsuits so she can play in the "zero entry" pool area for kids 0-7 yrs old. She's very cute getting a teensy bit wet then running back to me. When Miss A & E are done, they join us for 10 minutes and then I call time and we go off to the "family changing room" to get changed. I do not realize that all the hugs Miss O has given me have saturated the left boob part of my swimsuit top, thus when I put my shirt over my swimsuit, it looks as if I am a nursing mother who has leaked profusely. Nice.

And, this is where *I* start falling apart...in the "family changing room" with my left side of my shirt completely wet and obvious. It is also hot and sticky in this cement hole. Meanwhile, the girls are really just being almost 6, 4, and 2. In other words, they are acting their age by being enamoured with all things in the bathroom, needing to use the toilet, dropping the towels and clothes on the wet floor, telling me I'm doing things wrong and, basically in general, just being kids. *I* do NOT act my age and start grousing (ARGH! Okay, okay...speaking in unkind tones) for them to LISTEN to MOMMY and PUT THEIR SHOES ON and GET DRESSED! AND *&^%$#. Yep. I swear. Right after I told them to specifically listen to me. ARGH!!!!!! It is, admittedly, one of my "finer" mothering moments.

I apologize for losing it and we get out to the car. I continue to apologize for losing it until we arrive at Target. We do some shopping. I get a weird ligament pain and long desperately for a place to sit down. Instead, we have to go all the way across the store to find some bug spray.

Let's pause here and share some annoyance, shall we? Can someone please tell me why they don't put insect repellent next to their many many displays of sunscreen? Both are for the outside activities. Why can they not have both together????? Why must I go to the CAMPING section to find any type of bug spray? And why will I find a perfectly good bottle of it, later after the next incident, suitable for children, tossed in with the $1.00 items at the front of the store? GRRRRRRRRRR.

On top of that, as we are looking, I run over Miss A's toes with the &*^%$! cart (swearing occurrence #2) and the little metal thing that is on the back right wheel catch her toes, which are currently revealed thanks to her swim class Princess flip flops she chose to wear, and it scrapes several of them up. Luckily, there is no bleeding (else, trust me, the mood I was in, I'd be YELLING for a manager to swear at...sigh), but there is pain and I feel TERRIBLE. AWFUL. And what do I say to her? "I'm so sorry honey. Next time, let's wear more reasonable shoes."

ARGH!!!!! Like it's her poor shoe choice that has caused her mother to run over her toes and scrape them up. I swear again (that makes THREE times, but who's counting????) as I hug her and reassure her that I truly am sorry.

And here we see an ugly character flaw of Miss L: besides the swearing and absolute loss of self control, we see that when I feel really bad and responsible for something, like if my kids fall and/or are injured or whatever, and especially if I have warned them to watch out or be careful or some such thing, the overwhelming emotion of concern that I feel mixes with my own guilt that I have failed them somehow and emerges as anger because I no longer have control over the situation. Thus I am not completely reassuring and comforting. In fact, I am the OPPOSITE. I shove most of the blame onto them because if ONLY they had HEEDED my ohsocareful warnings. And, especially, if they are crying, I want them to stop so *I* can calm down. It's incredibly selfish on my part, and I'm trying to be better, but I still slip up.

We end our very very trying trip to Target in their little food court, where of course the Pizza Hut cashiers must give a refund to some woman but neither of them know how, so we are actually stuck in line until almost the breaking point, but luckily we get some food in all of us just in time. And then we have actually a very nice lunch and make our way out to the car when Miss O somehow loses contact with her cup and her refilled medium size beverage slips out of her hands and spills out in the parking lot. Weeping and wailing commences in 3...2...1...now.

Of course. Of course!

Miss A magnanimously offers to share her lemonade with Miss O, and Miss O accepts but that does not stop the WAILING that is going on. Once again, I am not feeling very comforting because I told her to hold it with both hands and she did not listen. We get to the car and I tell Miss O that it's time to dry it up and I do not want to hear any more about it, especially since Miss A is going to share. Miss O complies. We get in the car. We start to drive home. We get caught in a TORRENTIAL downpour from a pop-up Thunderstorm. I kinda laugh maniacally to myself and we get home, get unloaded and here we are now.

We have survived The Errands. I think next time, I'll just come home and assess the situation and maybe go AFTER naps and lunch and downtime. And this is how I gain my pearls of wisdom...sigh.