The reunion was at the beach. I chose to wear my bathing suit with a dress like cover up. Not taking into consideration that upon leaving the reunion I need to go to WalMart to buy a gift for a birthday party Madison was invited to attend today. I am pretty sure I will wind up on The People of Wal-Mart website now. If you see me on there, please don't tag me in the photo. Present check. Gift bag check. Card check. I decided to check out the hair ribbon while there for the cheerleaders comp bows. While browsing the ribbon I caught a glimpse out of the corner of my eye of Madison stuffing something down her dress. Now we have had somewhat of a recurring issue with the little one having sticky fingers. While in Disney she stole a pencil topper. At the time we all made a joke about how she was at least smart enough to remove the price tag before pocketing it. With each time it has become less funny and more alarming. I knew it was the silly putty I had just told her to put back on the shelf when she showed me. Do I ask an associate to confront her and hopefully scare her? Do I allow her to take it out of the store and then make her bring it back in to embarass her? Do I just give her a stern talking to without harming her fragile ego? I decided to nix the associate idea as I have heard far too many stories about associates who take the lesson too far. I went with the stern talking to and making her put it back. Stealing is my numero uno no-no. People work too hard for what they have, you don't take it. And now my little sunshine is on her way to a lifetime of crime. Needless to say, I was a bit upset at this moment. In my awesome bathing suit cover up.
So leaving the store, neither of us are skipping or singing. We are both in bad moods over the sticky finger situation. I can't find the car. It's hot. The bags are getting heavy. I am running late. Ugh. I finally find the car and notice Madison left the back window down. In my head, I am grumbling about what the sense is to lock the car when the window is wide open. I am about to find out the sense behind it.....
Now anyone who knows me knows that my purse is like a season finale episode of Hoarders. I mean the crap I have packed in there could probably support a third world country. So I decided to reach through the open window, unlock the door, put the bags and Madison in the car all before digging through the bottomless pit aka my purse for the keys. BIG MISTAKE. Apparently if you reach through a window and attempt to open the lock from the inside it sets off your car alarm. Just FYI. Standing in the middle of the packed, crazy busy WalMart parking lot, with my hands full of bags, my bathing suit cover up and flip flops on and my car alarm is screaming. I think it took a few seconds to sink in what was going on...then I panicked and started digging through my purse, my ears bleeding from the sirens of the alarm. I mean really, Mitsubishi, can you say overkill? Madison starts screaming, "What's going on?!" So I did what any sane woman would do in this situation. I dumped my purse out right there in the parking lot. Yes, yes I did. Once again, I am just full of class. I found my keys, silenced the beast and without making eye contact with anyone in the parking lot I picked up the contents of my purse. The whole time just silently thinking F...M...L... Now I normally hate that term. It seems so negative. However in situations such as the one described above, I think it is rather appropriate.
Once again, please if you see the photos from this shenanigan, please do not tag me in it when you share it on Facebook.
So we are in the car, riding in silence while I debate my next issue. The birthday party Madison was invited to. She is turning 5 in ten days. Do you stay and supervise the party? Do you drop and run? I already just bought a new dress to try to appear at least on the outside as a good, decent mother. In this case, I truly need to be judged by my cover because my chapters are 50 shades of effed up but just with good writing and a better story plot. I prefer to look nice, rather than the hot mess I realistically am. I get home, change into my gonna-fool-you dress...touch up hair and make up..throw on some heels. Oh yea, I got Madison dressed too. Luckily since I was fashionably late there was already several little girls there at the party...without parents. Which meant I could follow suit without looking like the bearing overprotective mother hovering over her child's social situation or on the other end of the spectrum, the parent dumping the child and running for the horizon. I did offer to stay and help, but she said she had it under control...ugh so jealous. I don't even know what that means! So here I am, typing away in a silent house, in my dress and heels. A nice looking hot mess of a woman enjoying some golden silence. And maybe now I can crack a smile and giggle about the FML moment...
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