Kotex and Kids

I try to avoid the grocery store when I have all three girls with me, but sometimes necessity trumps sanity. Necessity equals milk, mini pancakes, and tampons. I piled up all of the kiddos into the swagger wagon and off we went to my arch nemesis, HEB. I scored an awesome spot and the cart with a bench attached. Things were looking good. E and C were perched in the bench seat and baby A was strapped into the front seat. We were off, I was rounding the corner at impressive speed to locate the tampons and realized that since I had been to the store last, it was now under a complete remodel. I had no idea where anything was. I stumbled across the tampons where the bread use to be, and then wandered around attempting to find the pancakes. Since I was trying so hard to locate my items, I was not really paying attention to the girls. I stopped walking to peer down an aisle when a woman tapped me on the shoulder. "Excuse lady, you are shedding tampons." What the.... I looked behind me and there was no question where we had been. Tampons strewed hap hazard down the aisle. I turned to shoot daggers at the older girls, but stopped when I noticed baby A happily gnawing on a wrapped tampon while her chubby hand thrust into an almost empty box, routing around for another kotex to toss. Do I gather up all of the tampons and purchase the box, or do I gather them up shove the open box back on the shelf and get a box that had not been handled by baby fingers? I ended up roaming the store picking up the renegade tampons avoiding making eye-contact. I bought the opened box and after making it home counted the remaining items. Apparently there are about 5 tampons unaccounted for. So if you are at HEB this week and find a sealed tampon, it is mine, I already paid for it so you can keep it.

Bosom Buddies?

OK, I must admit I have not been a fan of Victoria's Secret since they discontinued my bra size and stopped sending out free pantie coupons. After taking to a friend of mine I was surprised to learn that my bra size is back in stock! VS finally realized that not all of us were going to get implants. I visited the store last week to see about this new amazing 2 cup bra. Sadly, it still took two associates to find my particular size,and that was after an associate measured my bust just to make sure I was right. I was offered a comfortable padded bra and the super +++ padded bra. OK, for 48.00, I am getting the best boob for my buck. I loved it and was feeling great, until I walked to the register to buy my "organic material" boob job. The adorable girl with a perky chest and skin tight white t-shirt flashed me a smile and chirped,"Did your friend like, come in here yesterday?" "Ummm..no I don't think so." I replied. "Oh, because a girl just about your age was in here and bought two of these 32 A bras. She said they were amazing, are you sure she wasn't your friend?". OK, thanks for saying my sad size out loud, so much for Victoria's SECRET! Apparently, those of us in the ittiy bitty committee are all BFFs?? My shopping experience was not helped by the fact that my four year old managed to almost strangle herself with a thong. As I was attempting to pull the leopard print pantie off her head she squealed, "Mommy you need to get one of these so you can play animal with me." I was temped to tell her where the thin black lace string that was now wrapped around her pony tail was suppose to be. One more thing, I do want to make sure that everyone knows that I do NOT discriminate based on chest size.

Painting with Pooh...I mean Poo

I am thrilled to announce that we have another artist in the family. Now two of my children, have chosen an organic medium to explore. Let me explain... It was a glorious day. My older children were out with daddy and baby A was asleep. I was making good headway on the three baskets of clean clothes that I had been ignoring for the past week. Sure enough, 3/4 of the way done I heard baby A babbling over the monitor. I figured that she was content, so I continued to fold. Baby A's babble turned to squeals of joy, I smiled as I folded the last pair to pet shop panties. I grabbed a basket of clothes, and trudged up the stairs. I pushed open A's door and my olfactories were accosted by a distinct odor. I sighed, as I quietly padded into her room. I wanted to see what she was so happy about...that's when I saw it. A soiled diaper lay mostly empty in the middle of her floor. Her beautiful pale pink gingham crib bumper was now streaked with a hideous shade bluish brown (thank you blueberries). I gasped as soon as I saw baby A's little head pop up. My sweet little redhead now resembled a brunette. Begrudgingly, I peered into the crib to examine the magnitude of the smelly mess. There it was, an amazing piece of artwork streaked across the wall. My little avant-garde artist stared at me quizzically while I gagged. This was not my first child to attempt to be Poo-casso. Sadly, I have considerable experience attempting to clean a textured wall that has been smeared with Doo Doo Brown. The irony of it is, is that the only stuffed toy that she chose NOT to artistically embellish was Pooh.