Braving the shops.

Picture the scene.. We’re braving the local shopping center with two kids.

One ‘3’ ,one 4 months BABY.

In itself this is pure stress from the absolute outset. It took 2 hours to get everyone dressed, clean toileted and out the house. We climbed into the car only for

‘can we go home now..?’

‘are you ready to go home now?? ‘

‘mommmm I’m hungry’

We’ve been in the car approximately 3 minutes by this point

I eye-roll and we head to the mcdonalds opposite the shopping center. Where he cries because he hasn’t got a blue balloon and no longer wants to eat the food as he’s too busy playing with the free peice of plastic shite that comes in the box. Anywaaay.

Head over to mothercare y’know to get myself a whopper of a baby deal before it closes down and couldn’t really find anything we wanted so impulse bought this ca-utttttte high chair. £27.50 hell to the yessss.

3 is already ‘mommmm picky up’ ‘toy shop mom can we go?’

As bribery goes.. The toy shop was the next shop we attended. My plan was actually – MOTHERCARE-DISNEY SHOP-BANK-HOME.

I remember the days i used to leisurely walk around.. Nip into Lush.. Perhaps try clothes on in river island. Now? Now it is a MILITARY operation. In and out. My shop. Bribe shop. My shop. Home.

So anyway we get to bribe shop, we have a toy in mind ZURG from Toy story and the disney shop sold out of Zurgs that morning? Wtf? All you people rushing to disney for zurg…. Why? Why have you done this to ME! (side note, if you got the last Zurg in merryhill today i shit you not. I hope you run out of loo roll after a shit)

ok so.. We settled on a Baymax, buzzing, cheaper than the original bribe toy. Now what happened next was where we went INCREDIBLY WRONG. See what should of happened is that we SHOULD have got straight into the queue.. we should have Bought baymax and left. But instead… A rookie move.. we continued to browse the shop where ‘3’ found a rather expensive shit toy that i didn’t want in the house. Some shooty glove things that i could only imagine him shooting his sister with and losing the little shooters and you know… Just NO. OH and it was 35quid.no kid.bribe money stops at £10! So yeah i had to talk him down from that tantrum, i saw the gazes the ‘what a spoilt brat’ the ‘poor mom’ the ‘poor kid’ but honestly I’m that used to it that my stress level only really got to a level 3.UNTIL baby starts crying, i dont mean a warning whinge.. I mean a full blown meltdown scream, so now I have 2 tantrums going and I’m not gonna lie, it went from a 3 to a 7 real fast.i saw the fear in OTHER HALVES EYES. and understably so.

Anyway i talked ‘3’ down and we bought the baymax..and baby took a few sips of milk before deciding that actually she wasn’t that hungry and didn’t really know what the fuss was about. OTHER HALF then makes 2 unscheduled stops in footlocker and game.he did NOT heed that warning tantrum. Now… We’re on a schedule – i know full well that BABYs little screaming was a warning and that i was on borrowed time.. By the time we got to the bank LOW AND BEHOLD M.E.L.T.D.O.W.N!

we now had to stop, i got her out, she didnt want a feed,infact she spat that milk at me full force, i had to wipe milk from my eyebrow…She wanted nothing except to be held

She’s not a little feather weight. Think peter Griffin as a child and you’ll have the idea of size. JUST LIKE HER MOTHER. SHE WON’T BLOW OVER IN THE WIND.

Incidentally ‘3’ also wants to be ‘picky upped’ now add into that a puschair, a baby bag and some shit from the shops. Stress level 8.

We’re b-lining for the car.

I think we’re safe when we get there, the pushchairs in. Both kids are in. The new bargain highchair in the huge ginormous box?It wouldn’t fucking fit . So imagine me, with a box on my lap with a corner digging into my belly covering ALL of my vision. Leaning on the gearstick

‘could you just lift that up abit beth, its hard to drive like this’

Now… NOW guess whos warning cry turned into the real deal.. A 25 minute journey and BABY decides to scream full blast at me, whilst i cant see, with a giant box on my stomach with a crick neck.

Stress. Level. 10

Oh….3mins into journey home, in 5 oclock work traffic….

3: ‘mom… I REALLY need a wee’

imagine me.. Looking like the picture below. Accurate representation.

Stress level. 196.

Published by The Dempsey diaries

Just a mother, telling you of my shit stories, trying too hard to make you laugh.

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