Not tough enough

The score for the day has been tallied. London officially stomped me today. Ballots say I am NOT tough enough to do London with two children. Full story below...

So, it all started this morning at 6:42 a.m. when I woke up to feed Spencer who was crying frantically in his little bed in the office. I opened our bedroom door to get him and a little voice greeted me from the couch, "Hi Mama!" Yes, Sammie was already awake, sitting on the couch with her blanket, reading books to herself. This may not seem like a leary start for some of you who are up at such hours. But you may not realize or remember that we London Bishops are 8 a.m. people (and also midnight or 1 a.m. people), NOT 6:42 a.m. people. So, it was an unexpected early start to our day, followed by a series of tiring tantrums and "into everything" occasions until nap time.

There was some peace in the middle of the day, and a lady came to buy our coffee table set and ended up committing to buy some other stuff as well. All this was positive, and I am grateful that I had that little midday respite.

The main event I have to share was our outing this afternoon, after naps, after furniture dealings. I decided to be brave and go to Home Base (like Home Depot) to get the varnish we need to touch up our dining room table. Leaving the house is still no small feat for me: Feed Spencer, change Spencer, get his blanket and binky, then put him in the swing so I can carry him out the door at the very last moment, listen to him cry until we leave. After Spencer, I work on Sammie... do her hair, get her socks and shoes on, get her sippy, get her snacks, get her back pack and jacket, no she can't take all those toys with us, get her up the stairs to the door. All set? Oh, wait -- get Spencer, lock the house, unlock the house, grab the back pack and my money, relock the house, unlock it again and grab my oyster card for the bus (all the while hauling Spencer up and down the stairs with me), relock the house once more, go to the car, unlock the car, put Spencer on the front seat, pop the trunk, get out the stroller, tell Sammie to stay right by me and not go near the road, set up and recline the stroller, strap Spencer in, and we're off. Does anyone have a funny feeling I forgot something?

Yep. The backpack is sitting on the sidewalk by the trunk, right next to the VERY busy street we live on. But of course I don't realize this until we've made the 7-minute walk to our first stop at the pharmacy to pick up a prescription (yes, the one I've been meaning to get filled for 2 weeks now, sorry Brian). Just as she's about to ring up my prescription, I remember the backpack. I also remember the other backpack I left in that same spot back at Christmas time -- it got nabbed, wihch was not a huge deal as it only cost $2 and only had wipes and diapers and Ritz crackers in it. Nabbing today's pack would be more of a find for Mister Nabber, as I had cleverly put the keys to the house and the car in the front pocket! All these thoughts put me in a panic, of course.

So I abandon the prescription, grab Sammie and start walking VERY quickly back to the house, pulling Sam by the hand. Of course she does not like being pulled by the hand, and eventually completely rebels. Dragging her jello body on the pavement looks abusive, I realize. So I hoist the screamer up over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes and continue briskly walking, pushing the stroller, trying to act unphased as people watch me. From her vantage point on my shoulder, Sam sees her favorite Italian restaurant that gives out free suckers, and her cries immediately escalate as she become verbal, screaming very loudly, "I WANT A LOLLY!! I WANT A LOLLY!"

Yes, in retrospect, I recognize this is quite comical. But as it's happening, do you think I was laughing along with all the spectators? No, I was not. I was still walking as fast as I could push the stroller and lug my Sammie Potato back to the car, praying the backpack would still be there. Yes, it was, thank goodness. And the keys were still in it, even more of a thank goodness, of course.

After such an episode, is it wise to try to venture out again for the varnish? I can tell you now it was NOT wise. But we did it anyway, just because I am not always wise.

The bus ride down is no problem. The short walk to Home Base is no problem. Even getting the varnish isn't much of a problem, other than the twenty times I have to tell Samantha to put back the paint, the tape, the varnish, the stain, the furniture polish, the little fan, etc. Then we walk back to Sainsbury's to pick up a few things for the weekend. (We're having friends over for lunch tomorrow, before our dining table disappears.)

The "put it back on the shelf" conversation with Sammie continues in the grocery store. (She REALLY wanted a pineapple and could not understand why I wouldn't let her put it in our basket.) We also have several "hold Mommy's hand, please" and "stay with me, please" conversations, before another on-the-floor tantrum erupts. This time I opt for the under-arm football hold, which is effective unless someone tries to pass us on the side where she happens to be kicking frantically, which of course they do quite often in a crowded supermarket. I apologize frequently, let her walk occasionally, and we make it to the check-out stand eventually. Thankfully there's one of those big toy buses (the kind you can put money in and it plays music and moves back and forth, I presume) and it's right in front of our check-out, so Sammie can play while I bag our groceries and pack them on the stroller. Spencer's still okay? Yep, still asleep, thank goodness.

We start up the escalator to the bus stop. Just our luck, it's broken. And the lift seems to be broken as well, a pregnant lady tells me as Sammie is repeatedly pushing the buttom, yelling "ELEVATOR!!" (which is foreign in this country, by the way-- it's alway a lift, not an elevator). To avoid climbing the stairs, we exit by the back door and start up a long hill on the side of the store to where we can go around front to the bus stop. For some unknown reason, Samantha decides she doesn't want to go up the hill with me. She is NOT holding my hand, not being dragged, not even being lugged over my shoulder or under my arm. All the wriggling, wiggling, flailing and screaming is too much to handle while trying to push the grocery-laden stroller up the hill. I leave her crying on the pavement, walk to the top and wait for her to eventually mope her way up the hill by herself. We finally reach the top and I see the #82 bus is just arriving. I grab Sammie's hand, she resists. I football-hold her, while she screams and we run to the bus. Spencer finally wakes up to join the commotion with his own screams. We board the bus, swipe my oyster card, and the bus driver shakes his head at me. I look down to see my card doesn't have enough money on it to pay for the fare!

That's the climax right there, folks. Me, standing on the bus with NO cash; a screaming two-year-old under one arm, a screaming three-month-old and 5 bags of groceries in/on/and under the stroller; an obviously annoyed bus driver shaking his head at me; three people behind me wondering "what's the hold up?"; and several people on the bus staring at the commotion.

Goodbye, #82 bus. I stand on the sidewalk and watch it drive away as the tears start. Yes, by this time I'm crying as pathetically as my two kids. Back down the hill (with a very subdued Samantha who is quite unnerved to see me crying), back to the ATM to get money, back to the store to get the money in exact change for bus fare, back up the hill -- this time holding hands nicely most of the way, back on another bus which is very crowded this time. Spencer really picks up with the crying thing on the way home, and people look at me like I should do something for him. I pull out the bottle and pretend to try comforting him, even though I know he won't take a cold bottle in a crowded bus.

We get off the bus in front of the Italian place and I cave. Samantha gets her lolly after all, and I get my favorite rigotoni amartriciana for take-out dinner. Spencer gets food as soon as we get home, and now they are both fast asleep -- little angels. And Brian gets to hear me whine about my day on the phone, while he's still working late into the night, then he'll probably read this later?

Well, as I was saying, London beat me to a bloody pulp today. I am NOT venturing out on my own again tomorrow or Sunday. I'll have to think carefully about my plans for next week. Maybe my friends will have pity on me and come see me, so I can hole up here and find my "happy place"!

ps. Sorry for the long blogging absence. Stupid spotty internet connection, it's been a pain for the last couple weeks, and continues at present. I do have more to write, more pictures to put up from our last outings. But this episode took presidence today.