Shopping With The Girls

Yesterday after coming home from school I got the urge to paint my living room. Now, if you know me very well, you know that if I get the urge to do something, I want to do it immediately, no matter the time or place. My husband, of course, hates this part of my personality. So I grab a half used gallon of paint and get started, despite the fact that I knew I didn't have enough paint to finish, that Wal-Mart didn't carry that kind of paint anymore, and that the girls were running through the house, along with a friend they had invited over to play. I get about halfway done with the living room and run out of paint, so I decided to go to Chickasha this morning to get more paint. Since Nathanael was in charge of Upward Soccer this morning, I had to take the girls with me. The morning went as follows:

First stop- Handyman Hardware Store- 45 minutes. This place is like a junkyard for home repair items; stuff everywhere, covered in dust, smells like smoke and mold, but they have some great stuff for some great prices. The girls and I were both in heaven. As we were visiting with the owner about different light fixtures for my kitchen, McKenna announces to the world that she needs to poop. So, slightly embarrassed, I ask for the bathroom and haul them inside. Keely heads straight for the toilet and rubs her hands all over, then heads for the opposite corner and attempts to #2 in her diaper. Finally, Kenna finishes, Keely is still working (to no avail) and we go back to looking at lights. I agree to one and we pay, wait for them to bring it out from the warehouse, get it loaded, and we head for the next stop.

Second stop- Wal-Mart- 2 hours. This is my absolute, without a doubt, least favorite place to go to with a 2 and 3 year old. The main thing we need is paint for me to finish my project, however I manage to completely forget that part. Upon our arrival the girls had decided they were not shopping until they had a ride in the Mickey Mouse fire truck. In an attempt to keep them from screaming and crying, I plug 50 cents in. But nothing happens...apparently it's broke....so I pull both girls out, Keely screaming, and put them in the buggy. We look at plants, nail polish, Easter egg fillers, spring dresses for the girls, flip flops, sunscreen, and bananas. As we are heading to the front I realize the huge mistake I am about to make- the swimsuit cover ups I picked out will not match the girls swimsuits, so we go back and get a different color. Whew... Heading to the front to pay for the 2nd time, the fact that I haven't gotten any paint hits me. OMG! I brought the paint sample but left it in the Jeep, so we park our buggy near the front and head outside to the get the paint so it can be matched. I get out there and look for my keys. And look. And look. They are not in my purse or pocket! This is the point I begin freaking out. I'm trying to haul the girls inside and both of them are running and jumping over the lines in the parking lot when Keely falls down right in front of my feet, causing me to nearly bite the asphalt. Now I'm freaking out and screaming at my girls to just walk, people walking by me, considering whether or not to call DHS. First place I stop to look for my keys; the Mickey Mouse fire truck. No luck. I ask the greeter who proceeds to tell me this long story about how many people lose their keys and some of the crazy places they find them, and I stand there, politely smiling and listening, then head to the customer service desk. On my way to customer service I had to pass my buggy, which was still sitting undisturbed near the first check out. That's when I spot them- sitting in the front of the buggy, where they had apparently been gotten out of my purse by one of my little friends (McKenna, I'm betting). So we grab them, go back to the Jeep, get the paint, and go to the paint counter. No paint guy. No paint girl. No one in sight. I wait and wait, then head to the fabrics and ask for them to call someone. By the time I get back, there is the paint guy, looking like he's been standing behind the counter all day. I give him what I need just as they come over the loud speaker "Customer Service in Paint, Customer Service in Paint". I look around and nonchalantly say "Wonder who that is". So he puts my paint sample in the computer and mixes me some paint. Not the same color. He informs me that that's about as close as he can get. I stare at him, trying to think of a way to solve the problem that looms before me. How do I get out of repainting the entire living room, even the part I painted yesterday. No solution. I pick another color, he mixes it, and I accept the fact that this is my punishment. Should've left well enough alone. So for the third time we head to the check out. Mysteriously it seems that everyone was just waiting on me to head to the front because by the time I get there every register is about 4/5 deep. Ugh..I just want to go home. Patiently waiting my turn while referring the fight that has ensued over whose feet go where in the buggy, a new register opens up. Yes! I grab my buggy and spin it towards the waiting cashier and an unexpectant McKenna goes toppling out of the seat onto her face/collar bone. Praying she'll just get up and laugh it off, I make sure to get my buggy to the register first before anyone jumps in front of me, when the worst, blood-curdling scream begins to erupt from her lungs. Everyone turns around and stares at me, waiting to see my response. I pick her up off the floor, cheese stick in hand, and start putting the contents of my buggy on the counter, hoping this college kid scans fast. She calms down, I get them loaded in the car, and they fall asleep on the way home.

I was hoping to have the living room done by this afternoon but now I'm just too tired to even start. Maybe I can catch a little shut eye...