My kids are embarrassing.
Really cringe worthy embarrassing.
The sneaky sods had lulled me into a false sense of security, nothing too bad has happened lately; one pooped in the flower pot and the other declared his admiration for the climbing skills and undying love for the guy who was climbing up the phone pole.
Both situations I could handle with the assistance of after hours vodka.
Little did I know they were saving up crazy for today.
Still on a “yay me” high from Britmums, I made the rookie mistake of thinking a wee trip to town with the boys would be okay.
I should have realised things would be “difficult” when Ahren decided to pick out our outfits; mine was torn jeans and a sparkly sequined top, I dazzled, literately.
Anyhoo, off to town we went.
We hit the shops and eventually I had to release their grubby little hands and trust them not to go wandering off.
I didn’t realise until today that my boys are crotch height.
I only noticed this as they kept walking in to peoples crotches….
…and standing THERE.
There is no way to excuse your 4 year old son for walking in to a strangers crotch, male or female, it’s awkward in a way you are just not prepared for.
Making too big a deal out of it and you draw unnecessary attention to a strangers crotch AWKWARD.
Say nothing and you become the weird sparkly lady who allows her kids to walk into crotches.
I settled on the ol’ grabbing child, shoving him behind me as I mumbled some weird apology about face~crotch~gah~can’t we just laugh awkwardly and pretend this never happened?!
I’d thought my public parental misery was complete for the day, but no, my darlings had only just started.
Ahren starts complaining his feet hurt, takes off his wellie boots and lays down on the floor in a “woe is me” style that hints of Oscar nominations for Best Actor in years to come.
“HA I told you not to wear wellie boots, next time you should listen to mummy” didn’t go over particularly well with Ahren or the lady stood next to us, but damnit I was right!
But now I have the problem of juggling two kids, one refusing to put his shoes on the other trying to run backwards down the “magic stairs” and a bunch of shopping bags.
After chucking wellies in a bag, balancing a kid on my hip, grabbing another kid before he’s sucked to his death on the now renamed “scary monster stairs”, I somehow manage to purchase new footwear for Ahren and get everyone and everything outside the store.
I manage to shove new footwear on Ahren’s little feet before he walks across the shopping centre floor, thus avoiding the pitying looks as everyone tuts tuts at the mother who wears inappropriate sparkly tops whilst unable to afford footwear for her unruly children.
Thinking it’s a little early to start on the wine I decide to hit up M&S and buy cake, cause everything is made better by cake.
Unless your child compliments the chap you’re standing next to on his BOOBIES.
Oh my gawd!
Neither myself nor the chap looked very impressed, me because well, my son just complimented a dudes boobs!
And the dude, because he got told he had pretty boobs, hehehe.
It was not a good moment for either of us, a mumbled apology and a grunt of acceptance were shared before we spilt and went our separate ways.
I headed to the checkouts where I waited patiently to be pointed in the direction of the next available self service till, it was as I was stood there, clutching my lemon drizzle cake, that I glanced down and another little piece of me died.
Ethan had his hand clamped on a ladies bottom.
And she didn’t move, flinch or anything!
It’s like she enjoyed having her arse manhandled by a stranger!
In the middle of M&S!
I promptly snatched his hand away had a stern word about touching bottoms and instructed him to apologise, which he did.
She replied with “That’s quite okay dear”
I wanted to yell at her that no, it is not okay to have your arse manhandled by anyone, let alone a 4 year old, but alas my turn at the tills had arrived and damn it I needed my cake.