Becoming THAT Mom...

Surprise! Since the blog hit over 1000 page views yesterday, and since I want to share these thoughts in writing, I am awarding my readers with a Friday post.

I went to Target on Wednesday. I took my daughter, my yellow bag full of everything we could possibly need, and my cell phone. I was excited. It had been a while since we'd gotten out of the house, and since I didn't have my husband with me, I could take as long as I wanted to shop and look around. And since I haven't lived in the vicinity of a Target in my whole life up until about a month ago, I was so excited to go and browse.

But the shopping trip didn't turn out as expected.

And by the end, I realized I'd become that mom. The one you see looking completely frazzled. The one you feel sorry for. The one you promise yourself you will never, ever become.

It all started when I went to put Kevin in the cart seat and realized she only had one sock on. We gave up putting shoes on her a couple of weeks ago--she's at an awkward size where nothing fits and she pulls any shoe off anyway. Ironically, getting her a pair of shoes was one of the reasons for said shopping trip. So, embarrassed and wondering whether her pink sock was in the car or somewhere in the parking lot, I decided there wasn't much I could do about it and I should just get on with business. I pulled up her remaining sock and tried in vain to pull her little jeans down over her bare foot. Guilty, I thought about the fact that she'd been sick for about a week now and most germs are spread through feet. Oh dear.

We headed to the baby section first. I wasn't planning on buying any clothes for her, but I just like to look at the clearance racks, you know, just to see. During this time, my phone rang. It was my sister-in-law, Holly. I hadn't talked to her in forever and she'd been on my mind lately, so I answered despite being in the middle of a too-small aisle. We talked for over ten minutes as I made my way over to the toy section (to see if there were any good birthday present ideas for Kevin, who will turn one in less than a month!), and then to the other part of the baby section to look at overpriced shoes, none of which seemed to have the capability of fitting my daughter any better than anything we already had.  By the time I said good-bye to Holly, I'd been down the non-clothing baby aisles about twice and put two or three "splurges" in our cart, and then put them back, and then put them in the cart again.

We decided to move on to the whole reason for the shopping trip anyway: a Valentine present for Scotty. I quickly found the section for what I was looking for, but every tag was $10-15 more than what I wanted to spend, so I decided to forget it and just get him the candy bar he'd asked for. I knew he'd be disappointed, but oh well. I found the right card, so that should count for something. What a good wife I am.

By this point, Kevin is done with sitting in the cart and must be carried. So I pull her out and balance her on my hip as I push the cart along to the grocery side of the store. There is really nothing over there that we need, except to see if there is a good Valentine treat for Scott from Kevin. When we get to the back of the store, where all the boxed chocolates are, I decide that the Starburst we already picked up will be sufficient. But wait! Kevin has been sick, and I was supposed to see about getting her more Pedialyte, and that is back in the baby section, so back to the Baby section we go. When we get there I look down and see that Kevin has lost her other sock. She now is completely barefoot. This is unacceptable.  So I find a pair of socks, rip off the tag, put them on her feet, and stick the tag in the cart where I know I will remember to pay for them. Oh dear. When I was younger I was always embarrassed by the people who would let their kids eat or use things before they'd paid for them. And all of the sudden I was one of them. I am THAT mom. Oh no. It's an emergency, I tell myself, but I don't feel any better about it.

That's enough of this shopping trip, I think, and head to the check out stand. Kevin is back in the cart seat and highly offended. We check out just fine, but then I hear my phone buzzing again. Amy Arzani, the caller ID reads. I haven't talked to this particular mission companion in over a year. Curious as to why she is calling, I answer. She needs a favor. I steer the cart over to the cart parking near the exit. Worried and trying to figure out if I can help her with what she needs, I haphazardly pull Kevin out of the cart and head out of the store.

I'm still talking to Sister Arzani when the call-waiting goes off. This time I decide to ignore it. I finish my conversation with Sister Arzani, wishing I could help more but realizing I probably can't, and start buckling Kevin into her carseat. I go to get in the driver's seat and realize I can't find my bag of purchases anywhere. I double check the back seat and realize the bag probably never made it out of the store. Flustered, I unbuckle Kevin and rush back to where I left our cart, hoping against hope that nobody has found/stolen our stuff yet.

Sure enough, there it is. I walk around the Mom that is trying to herd her two pre-teens in the right direction. She sees me pick up the bag and laughs. "I didn't even see that there!" She says.

"I'm losing my mind," I admit, embarassed and heading back toward the door. I'm ten feet away when I realize I am trying to go out the entrance. So I turn around and almost run into the lady again as I make a wide circle around the jumble of carts.

When we get back to the car, everything goes smoothly. I buckle Kevin in and then get into the front seat. I'm slightly shaky and starting to regret my small lunch of chips and salsa. My sugar is running low and I need to eat something. So I break open one of Scott's Valentine treats and start eating it. At this point, I realize that my cell phone is missing. It isn't on the seat or in my pocket. I check back by Kevin. Not there. Oh dear.

At this point I ask for the help I should have asked for a long time ago.

"Heavenly Father, please help me find my cell phone, and please let it be in the car and not back in the store. I'm too embarrassed to go back in there!"

My mind flashes with inspiration and I have an impression of the hole in the lining of my yellow bag. All sorts of things get lost in there, why not my phone? I feel the bottom of the bag. There it is! There is a phone! I dig down and pull it out and panic. This phone has red trim on it, which means it isn't my phone at all, but Scott's old phone that we got out for Kevin to play with so she would leave ours alone. I take a deep breath and reach in again, pleading with God to please let my phone be in there too.

Sure enough, it is. So I say a quick "thank You and please please please get us home safely" prayer. Before we leave, I check my message, which is from my mother-in-law. I call her back. She's invited us to dinner. I say yes for three reasons: 1. She's a great cook. 2. This means I don't have to make and/or clean up dinner. and 3. I remember that she is watching my niece and nephew, ages 10 months and two-and-a-half, and she will never ask for help but I know they are going to be worn out by the time dinner rolls around and could probably use a break or some help.

Sure enough, we get home safely. Two hours later we head over to my in-law's house. When we walk in my nephew is fighting eating his bottle and my niece is sitting in the high chair, looking downtrodden, an un-crusted, un-eaten peanut butter sandwich on the napkin in front of her. Her parents and two older sisters have been in Disneyland for three days. And since this little girl is by far the hardest of our nieces and nephews to win over, since she has a very, very small list of people she likes, I say a little prayer that she will let me be on that list tonight.

I kneel down next to her highchair. "Hi sweetheart," I whisper. She needs a mommy's touch right now, I think, and then, realizing that I am a mommy now, I whisper to her, "Do you need a mommy hug?" With tears in her eyes, she nods, and I lift her out of the chair and hold her close for five straight minutes. Scott's mom tells me with a laugh that as we were pulling into the driveway, this little niece said she "was scared of Marinda." That fear doesn't seem to stop her from wanting a mommy tonight--anybody's mommy.

Even me.

For the rest of the night, I help with her bath and her hair and her jammies and we read stories while Scott helps get her little brother down for the night (because it seems a little nephew is missing his Daddy tonight too). Kevin is content to slobber all over Grandma's toys and tackle her little boy cousin while her mom is playing substitute mommy and Grandma is taking good care of everybody else. Well, content for a while at least, until she's had enough and then Kevin lets us know it is time to go home and put her to bed. And my niece starts crying when I put on my coat.

I apologize to my in-laws, but secretly I have a little sliver of satisfaction inside.

I might be that mom who goes into a store with a barefoot child in the middle of winter. I may even be that mom that uses a pair of socks she hasn't paid for and leaves everything she's bought in the cart when she leaves the store.

But I am still a Mom.

So I still count.