a tale from the mommy trenches

Some days it just must be said...motherhood is embarrassing.

All we wanted was a fun, relaxing trip to Borders. What the hell were we thinking?!! Will we never, ever, ever learn?!!
So we head in with all three kids in tow. Generally, we start in the bargain section, and this was no exception. Could two little boys be patient and give the concept of behaving a fighting shot for just a few minutes? Apparently not. Within 5 minutes, they had blown their chance at heading to the kids section. All three of them (poor Annie just got caught up in the sting) were herded off to the bench by the door to sit. I told Rich to just go take some time to browse, while I played prison warden.
Things go from bad to worse. Gray decides to take off his shoes. I calmly ask him to put them back on. He refuses. I sternly tell him to put them back on. He refuses. I say some assinine motherly statement such as "You'd better put those shoes back on right now, or you won't be needing them when we get home because you'll be going right to bed." He finally starts reshodding, when I notice that little brother, in true little brother fashion, has also removed his shoes. See, Max MUST (I believe it's in his genetic make-up) do absolutely everything his big brother does, with the, much to our dismay, exception of using the potty.
"Maxwell, put your shoes on now, please." He actually starts to comply. Then for some reason that I simply cannot explain except to say that it must have been an incident of gravity gone crazy, Max tips over and takes a header to the floor, hitting a metal pole on the way. The Mommy reflex kicks in and he is in my arms before the first wails escape his mouth. But the wails do come, averaging about 200 decibels for approximately a 60 second duration. (Said 60 second duration, of course, felt more like 6 days.) No blood is sighted, and wails subside into simple sniffles.
Trying to take everyone's minds off the preceding troubles, I say to Annie, "Why don't you just open up that book and read us a question?". The book to which I was referring is called The Handy Answer Book for Kids (and Parents). I found it in the bargain section before our exile to the bench. It's full of all kinds of interesting questions and answers on nearly every subject conceivable. Being the obedient child that she is, Annie opens the book and loudly reads, "Why don't girls have penises?" Of all the hundreds upon hundreds of questions in this book, this is the one she opens to. And I have no one but myself to blame.
*Side note: Gray and I just covered this subject a few weeks ago...see April 10th post.