Random Notes from the Front Lines

I'm at that point of parenthood where when my son asks at 1:11 in the afternoon if he can take off his clothes so he can marry his sister, I don't even look up when I say, "Sure."

I also say ridiculous things like, "I've told you! No shoes upstairs on the carpet! I want to keep this carpet clean! Now go downstairs while I finish cleaning your pee out of the rug."

Pie's new thing: "When I'm big..." All of these uttered at random within the past four days: "When I'm big can I drive?" "When I'm big can I paint your toes?" "When I'm big, can I have coffee?"

The most popular song these days for naked tushie dancing is Cake's "The Distance." Pie calls it "the flag song" and she holds a plastic Israeli flag left over from Yom ha'Atzmaut as she listens. The second "the flags go up" is sung, she raises her little flag, giggles, and says, "Play it again." The other day, I heard Doodles explaining to his friend what the song is about: "This song is about someone riding a horse and he lost his cup."

Do you remember way back when on game shows when one of the prizes offered was a shopping spree? Someone would have ten or fifteen minutes to run through a store and throw as much stuff as s/he could into the shopping cart. Well, that's what shopping has become like for me. I went to TJ Maxx today to make a return, and as I'm desperate for some new summer togs, I decided to check out the clothes. The other problem was, I had Thing One and Thing Two with me. Thing Two in particular was a bit trying. I didn't have to worry about losing her--her ear-piercing screeches ("Aieeeee!") as she ran from one end of the store to the other was as good as any homing device.
Me: Pie, stop running. Pie, use your walking feet. Doodles, tell your sister to get back here. Pie, get back here. Pie, use your indoor voice. Pie, walking feet! Pie, you are going to lose your playdate if you don't get over her right now! Doodles, go get your sister.
Meanwhile, I'm walking through the aisles, grabbing anything that looks remotely interesting and remotely in my size and tossing it over my arm. God forbid I hold anything up to me, never mind even try it on.
Pie: Mommy! Is that for me?
Doodles: No, Pie. It's for Mommy. It's all for Mommy.
Pie: Buy me something! Buy me something!
Me: You'll get stuff for your birthday!
Doodles: Mommy can I get--
Me: No.
Doodles: But--
Me: No. For your birthday.
Pie: Mommy! Mommy! MOMMY! Look! LOOK! They have PRINCESS PAJAMAS! Mommy, can I have princess pajamas? I want princess pajamas. Can I have princess pajamas? Please? Please? Please? Puh-leeeeeeeeeeeeeease? Can I have princess pajamas? Can I?
Me: For your birthday.
Pie: Can I have them Right Now?
Me: No. For your birthday.
Pie: I want princess pajamas. Can I have princess pajamas? Please? Please? Please? Puh-leeeeeeeeeeeeeease? Can I have princess pajamas? Can I?
Me: For your birthday.
Pie: Okay. For my birthday.
Me: Good girl.
Pie: For my birthday. Can you buy them now?
Me: No!
On my arm is very random assortment of clothes. I pay for them as my kids threaten to bring down the rope barriers holding up the aisles. Suddenly, I hear another screech.
Pie: Mommy! Mommy! Look at the backpacks! Look, Mommy! Hannah Montana backpacks!
Doodles, excited: She's right, Mommy! Hannah Montana backpacks.
I halt. I turn to Pie.
Me: How the hell do you know who Hannah Montana is?
Pie shrugs. I turn to Doodles.
Me: How does she know who Hannah Montana is?
Doodles shrugs: I don't know. But you know, she's a real person! She's a real concert singing person.
Pie: Yeah! A concert singing person.
Me, mumbling, as I hand the credit card to the sales clerk for a pile of clothes that I'll more likely than not be returning: She knows Hannah Montana.
We retreat to the car. I swear not to shop with them again. Not at least until these clothes need to be returned and I still don't have anything to wear.