Target and Kids: It's An Odessy

I took the kids to Target this morning with a very short list of things I needed:

*shorts for me

*play dress for Sarah

*cat food

*q-tips

*night gown for me

*shirt for me

*thermometer covers

I stuck to my list and it was easy peasy.

*snort*

I had to try on five pairs of shorts, two pairs of Capri's and three shirts. Therefore we had 'dressing room conversation.'  If you've never had 'dressing room conversation,' it goes a little like this:

Mom, what are those dimples on the back of your thighs?

~ I have no dimples. Look away. Liar liar pants on fire. (glaring at child)

Mommy, what is that?

~ what?

All that squishy stuff above the button of your shorts.

~Nothing. These shorts lie. I just lost 15 pounds. Your mom is HOT. These shorts lie. Moving on . . .(more glaring)

Mommy, why can I see your bra when you put on your shirt?

~Because it's too thin.

Why is it too thin?

~We're moving on again . . .

Mommy what is that? (pointing to my tattoo, which is usually hidden.) (for the record, I have no problem with tattoo's, on other people. I don't like explaining mine to my kids.)

~We'll discuss it when you're older.  Why are you in here?

Ohhh, those shorts are tooooo short. I can see those dimples again.

~And again, I call you a liar. There are no dimples. (throwing shorts in corner. Using very special words in my head)

Finally, shorts and and a pair of Capri's are found, two shirts that are not tissue thin are thrown in the cart. We rush into the lingerie department.

Oh, please. What in the world was I thinking??? I have three children with me. It doesn't matter that I just want an overs sized t-shirt as night gown. I have to walk through bras, thongg, sexy night gowns, etc. John's eyes are roving everywhere and his hands are reaching for satin, lace and brocade. Obviously men are born to enjoy this. I'm torn between horror and complete amusement.

Sarah is happily jumping in between racks, making mazes of Spanx and panty hose. Violet is eye-ing the lace bra's and I can see her mind racing, wondering when she'll be old enough for that. As she reaches for one I put out a burst of speed and race us past them to the modest pajama's. The three of them are bickering, laughing, and revving a car engine the entire time this is going on. Generally letting the entire store know that my children are here, so watch out!

I'm reduced to begging after our 'dressing room conversation.' So I'm saying things like, "What did I ask of you? To give me this time. It's been 20 minutes. About 10 minutes too long. Please. Just stop. Let me grab this. Stop it. Knock it off. Please. Did you hear me?" At one point I say, "This is supposed to be Mommy Time. Yeah. Pretty lousy Mommy Time." And I hear a lady start to laugh two rows over.

Eventually I grab a night gown - of some unknown color, race through the kids clothes and find nothing for Sarah. But I've completed my list and we've only been in the store for 30 minutes.

30 minutes.

Success! Glory!

But I still didn't get out of there under 100 dollars.