Or more commonly known as Babies/Toy R Us.
I can't stand those stores. They are way way WAAAAAYYYY too overwhelming. There are too many choices. And they are packed with things that I think I need for my child but I don't. It stresses me out BIG TIME. So much that it causes my water to break. So why do I go there? Because they keep sending me coupons. And there are some things that only that damn place has.
Like straight up Gerber barley cereal. Or a million different kinds of Gerber graduate puffs.
Or a toy cell phone. Seriously, I have scoured every single other place that may have the smidgen of the possibility of having one. Target. Walmart. Kmart. Sears. My Baby News. ANYWHERE. So I figured today was the day to brave it because tomorrow is my massage and I might as well get as much stress in today so it can be rubbed out tomorrow.
I picked Isaac up from daycare and declared that we were indeed braving the hell on San.ta Ro.sa Avenue. Miss K informed me of Isaac's pain med dosages and lack of naps. But I was doing it anyway. He keeps grabbing at my Black.berry or my hubs Pa.lm. And seriously, I can't give him a functioning electronic device not suitable for children. What if he dials 911? How do I explain that one? :(
We made it to the store and man, oh man. TOOO MAAAANNNNY CHOOOOIIIICES. I found three suitable phones. Well, one wasn't really suitable. It was a VTech Handy Manny phone and his little face lit up everytime it said "You break it, we fix it! This is Manny." But it was for ages 3-6 years. And the features were too advanced. It asked me to press the button that had the hexagonal shape on it. Then it asked me in Spanish. It went back on the shelf with my fingers crossed it will still be around when his first birthday rolls around. I don't care I am buying it then.
Now, Isaac is no longer in the infant carrier car seat in the stroller. He just sits in the stroller like a big boy. He loves it. Most times.
Today it unravelled pretty quickly. Fortunately I had loaded the stroller up with cereal and his toy phone and another toy. And I brought the miracle teething tablets in with me. I fed him 3. Held him off for a bit longer, but now he was hungry, tired, teething....did I mention it broke 100 today? (Don't worry it is supposed to drop back to 80 some). The only way he was able to be calmed was for me to pick him up and hip carry him (Yep! He's a hip baby now!) and push the stroller with my free hand.
We made it up to the line. Which was ONE line and it was also the customer service counter. So everyone with there complicated returns and exchange transactions was in the same line as those of us with screaming infants. And the service girl? Not the brightest. Sorry, but it was true. Finally we only had one couple in front of us.
Let me tell you about this couple. They were GHET-TO. The mom was not wearing shoes. They were in her purse. I know because she asked the dad. And she didn't have real eyebrows. They were the drawn on kind. The dad was wearing shoes. And he was also wearing jean shorts so large that they might as well have been full length jeans and a mangey old tank top with ketchup stains (I guess they were ketchup...maybe blood...I was being optimistic). Their child was a little girl with alot of energy who was also not wearing shoes. She was bouncing one of those plastic balls. With little supervision.
Her parents were preocupied with their transaction and not watching her. Apparently they had one of those VI.SA giftcards that they swore they could get cash off of, and they wanted an item that wasn't in the store and they wanted to order it or get a raincheck but they wanted to pay for it now with the giftcard and get cash back. And the service looked like she wanted to cry. She called for back up. A nerdy looking guy came to help the scared looking girl. They spent the next 15 minutes trying to figure out what the hell these people actually wanted and how to do it without making the store implode.
Meanwhile, this energetic, shoeless daughter of theirs is still throwing the purple plastic ball. And it hits me. I am still holding Isaac who is still fussy and miserable. I politely tell her to be careful, cause I have a baby and he doesn't know how to play ball. She hit me three more times. Each time I told her a little louder, hoping that one of those people in front of me would actually turn around and parent their child. Or at least amuse her. They didn't.
Isaac still fussing. Apparently this impossible transaction has been figured out and the nerdy guy has stepped out from behind the counter and thanks me for waiting. Doesn't offer to ring me up regardless of the fussing baby and frazzled looking mother who keeps getting pelted with a plastic ball.
And then the ball pelts Isaac in the head. Oh. My. God. His head literally bounced off my shoulder. Let the screaming commence.
So I did what any mother would have done. I picked the damn ball and whipped it across the store. The shoeless child begins to scream and cry because she doesn't have the ball and the nasty lady with the nasty baby threw it. Her parents whip around because now they can be parents. Parents that use expletives and spit when they talk. Dad proceeded to scream profanity at me. I think he asked why I had done that but I don't know because every other word started with f or b.
So I yelled back. Seriously. Something about not watching their child who already hit me with the ball a gazillion times.
Then mom says something that threatens violence. And I yelled at her too. Something about how she wasn't even wearing shoes and I would. Kick. Her. @$$. Don't mess with me. I haven't slept in months and my baby is teething and yet somehow I remembered that a person is supposed to wear shoes in public. Funny how that works.
We proceed to yell at each other for a few more minutes. The sales girl looks like she wet her pants and is calling back nerdy guy because WWF is about to break out in the front of the store. The mom is screaming about what the hell is she supposed to do. Her child is only 4. Hmmmm....my baby is 6 MONTHS OLD. And I am pretty sure at 4 I knew not to hit babies in the head with plastic balls. Call me crazy but I am pretty sure my mom mentioned it once or twice or a million times.
And although I can see your 4 year old ANGEL has a ton of CONSTRUCTIVE energy, and I realize 4 is pretty young, maybe....just maybe, you should have one of you watch her in a public place to make sure this kind of thing doesn't happen. Maybe you don't have your back turned to her for 20+ minutes while you try to rough up the nervous service girl because she doesn't know how to do what you want which is probably a scam anyway. Oh and by the way, where are your eyebrows?!
I was seeing red spots. Bright red spots. BRING. IT. ON. I DARE YOU.
She must have seen the smoke pouring out of my ears because mom backed down. And mumbled something about whatever and i am sorry and don't freak out about it.
Um....my baby is screaming because your daughter who you couldn't watch pelted him in the head with a ball. And he's scared.
I realize toddlers act up and are hard to control. I get that. But maybe. Just maybe it would be easier to control her if you watched over her. Or at least turned around occasionally to make sure she hadn't disappeared or was bleeding or was stealing or something.
Oh. and the little shoeless girl? She was laughing at this point. Laughing.
And so ends the story about how Isaac got a toy phone and Mommy added yet another store to her "only shop online at this place or you will regret it" list.