Took my oldest three children shopping Saturday. Out of town and far away–well, duh, you might say: we do live in shopping purgatory here in Moses Lake.
So anyway, off we go. Remember, I've been on three doses of Albuterol per day for about four days at this point. I duly took my two prescribed lunchtime puffs right after Applebees and before we went into the mall where, inexplicably, I kept losing my long-legged children. It was like one of those sci-fi movies where time slows down for everybody save one, and that person runs all over town, weaving in and out of cars and pedestrians who are either frozen in place or are moving in slow motion.
I was the only one unaffected by the time-freeze that occurred in the Tri-cities on Saturday. I'm going through the mall, weaving my way through the fairly thick, last-weekend-before-school-starts mall traffic, and when I'd turn to point something out to my children they were nowhere to be seen. Eventually they'd lumber up, red-faced and panting. "Mom, you're running." Might I point out they are all taller and larger than me.
I finally offered to carry their shopping bags. Anything to get the lead out of their veins. It didn't help much. They were still lagging behind and when we got home they were full of tales about Mom dancing to the PA music while waiting in lines–which, by the way, I catagorically deny. Twitching, maybe. Bouncing on my toes, yes, but that's only because the lines were insanely long and the checkers slow and I didn't want to get leg cramps. (Wait, were they losing me intentionally? Hmmm…)
And on the drive home some kind of wormhole occurred; our wheels were turning and scenery was going past, but I swear to you we were on some kind of asphalt treadmill; the sage brush and the irrigation ditches were on a loop, same ones, over and over, and we were going nowhere. I could have gotten out and run faster than we were driving. I may have been dancing at that point to pass the time, but in my defense our tunes are significantly better than anything stores like Old Navy or Sears pipe in.
When all was said and done (and we escaped the wormhole out there on highway 17) we spent eleven hours, twelve hundred dollars, and half a tank of gas, but I think we came away fully clothed and supplied for six children for the school year. (Yes, even for the ones who remained at home and who have no say, whatsoever, in how I dress them. Or their older sister dresses them. I really couldn't tell the difference between the cool hoodies and the ones she'd shrink in horror from.) We'd better be done–I thought we already were two weeks ago and if the budget wasn't shot then, it certainly is now.
Oh my goodness! I just realized there are eleven children asleep on my floor. At the same time. Whatever shall I do?