As I awakened undisturbed today, I decided to rise and begin my day earlier than usual and try to actually accomplish many things in the morning as opposed to my usual 2-3 items. I was beep boppin' along just great and got out of the house before 9:00am. That is huge for me right now. I was ready. Emma was ready -with fixed hair and cute outfit to go. There was a rummage sale going on in my hometown and I decided I needed to go scout out for some rugs. We are about to move into a lovely home with all hard flooring and I own about 3 rugs - none of which match because I am a garage sale junky these days. We had a great time upon entering the Rummage Sale, but it became time to go when people began to notice me. Why is that?
You see, before then, Emma was behaving beautifully. She would get a toy, bring it to me and we would giggle together about it and then she would put it back. Then she discovered the racks of clothes. This is a secret that she also somehow inherited from me. I LOVED to hide from my mother in clothing stores. LOVED it. Sometimes I would take her to a place of near cardiac arrest though because she couldn't find me and I was just standing there. Emma now does the same thing. God just giggles all the time at me. Three beautiful ladies from my home church came to talk with me and ask how I was doing. They were all in my mother's Sunday School class at one time. They, of course, want to see Emma. And she, of course, wants to hide and be 2. After a while of coaxing, she comes out. However, she is not going to let me live down that I have removed her from her comfort zone. She now proceeds to draw more attention to us than the hiding was doing. She whines for me to hold her. She whines about being asked to speak to the nice women. She pulls at my shirt and eventually stretches it to where she can pull it over her head and hide from the ladies that way.
I attempt to talk to her because dragging her into the parking lot for a more stern conversation just isn't right at this moment. However, I am getting there. I then check out - 3 books for Emma and a Hummingbird cake to take to the wonderful gentleman renovating my house. As we are checking out, my daughter announces to the patrons that she needs to go potty. I pay and we head back to the potty. This makes everything better in my world, because see, we are potty training. I am just elated that she told me instead of going in her Pull-Up. We get to the potty and she decides she doesn't want to go potty. She cries and whines and I am dumbfounded. My daughter has a thing for public restrooms. We have to coach her into any of them because there are one's that are out there to get small children. You know the ones - AUTOMATIC FLUSHERS. You place a tiny body on this large seat and expect the sensor to react appropriately. Not gonna happen. One too many times, I have placed her on one where she feared for her life as it flushed and appeared to be attempting to suck her down in the great unknown. So from that point on, I have to assure her that Mommy has control of the flushing mechanism and it won't get her. Regardless, no pottying.
Then she wants a brownie. They have nuts in them, and quite frankly, I don't think we have merited a brownie. She wants her juice. She doesn't want her juice. She wants me to carry her. Etc.
I am determined to not stop with my list of things to do. Emma is. We begin to head to the next town down the road that is somewhat larger and has more shopping. I have a dear friend that has a birthday approaching and I wanted to go to an actual retail store to look for her something. It wasn't open yet. I decide that I need a cappuccino. I stop to get it, but I am an idiot. I have to get Emma out to go in the store (heavens no, there is not a Starbucks out where I live people). She is still whiny and still wants me to hold her around strangers and I am 8 months pregnant and just not gonna do it. After that crying escapade, we proceed to go to the Flea Market. I figure it should be open and I can look for rugs there before heading back to the department store for my friend's gift.
I know that by this point, many of you are saying, "Why Jodi? Why would you do that to yourself?" I am thinking I can handle it. She, for the most part, minds fairly well and when we are not disturbed by strangers, we are ok. It was sensory overload though. We went into the market and got 1/2 way down the first isle and she needs to go potty again. Without describing it all over again, the results were the same. I am now severely agitated.
We go back out and I have her hold my hand. I let her stop to look at things, but keep it to plush non-fragile things. We make it up and down about 4 isles and I decide that I am tired of asking her to keep up and we should just go get the birthday gift and head home. BTW, there were no RUGS. We turn down the final isle (for us) for the day and there was a booth full of powerwheels. I was intrigued as well. Emma currently has a yellow bug that she loves and they had another. I thought, Abbi could have a matching one. Then I saw the Barbie Jeep. Oooo! Christmas!!! Great price too. However, I couldn't buy it right there. While we were looking at it, Emma climbs onto the police motorcycle next to it. I didn't think a thing about it because really, how long had they been sitting there? Apparently, not long enough to drain a battery. She hit the gas and before I could grab her, she drove it into a dividing wall between two booths. I know the entire market heard it. God was gracious enough to not let anything fall or break. I immediately jerk her off of the bike put it back and drag her out of the store. I was mortified. Sweet Lord! What could have come of that?
I have now regenerated myself and might try to get out again later. For now, the flea market is just for Mommy. I learned my lesson all you tenured parents. You go giggle with God now and we will talk later about other life lessons I have yet to learn.