The Finish Line

in Giggles on March 13, 2021

Here in Texas we are celebrating the first Official Day of Spring Break. I must admit, that some of us are a bit apprehensive, after all, last year, the kids came from home from school for Spring Break, and NEVER WENT BACK TO SCHOOL.

This year, we have a bit more hope.

I feel it in my bones, come next Monday, my house will be mine again, and the school system will once, again, have the joy, pleasure and privilege of dealing with my spawn—I mean, angels.

But, this Spring Break isn’t bringing beach trips and camping, and no…it’s not because of COVID…flu…the bubonic plague or any other weird disease that may or may not grab us as we exit our front door. We’re Texans, and and we don’t really care too much about that. This year, is bringing something much more strange and different to our house.

Jeff and I are about to be Empty Nesters.

What? How? When did THAT happen??

You see, we’ve had one kiddo in college for two years. That was sort of a weird transition. Not as weird as I thought I thought it would be. But, now, here it March, and our daughter is graduating in May. Again…we knew this was coming. This was a natural progression. But, here’s the kicker: Our youngest is graduating early.

That’s what makes this whole thing real—very real.

Jeff and are I moving all three kids to the same university about 75 miles up the road from us. We’re sticking them all in the same house. They get their freedom, but also they get the safety and accountability of living with each other…and peace of mind for Mom and Dad.

Sort of a win-win for everyone.

But, as I’ve been packing up everything to transfer from this house to the new house for the kids…this memory came to mind…

Please comment and let me know if y’all have had crazy encounters at the mall with your children!!

So about five years ago, I braved the malls of Houston during our annual tax-free-back-to-school shopping weekend.  For those of you who know me, y’all understand this was a HUGE undertaking…and why it’s been five years since I’ve been back.

I hate to shop.

I go against every single stereo-type of my sex when it comes to shopping.  The very thought of weeding through rack after rack of articles of clothes makes every fiber of my body rebel.  In fact, the only thing I do know how to shop for is food…which I explained in one of my last posts, and upset so many of my readers!  But, that is not what this post is about.

No.  I braved the hoards of people stocking up for the new school year, armed with an open mind and my secret weapon: my daughter.  Let’s just say if the Olympics had a shopping event, Em would easily take the Gold.  This child can out-shop, out-last, and out-do any adult I have ever met!  And that is saying something.

During our escapade I was missing my oldest child (he was off adventuring with my husband), so it was me and the two younger ones.  Hoping to shorten my time in Purgatory, I sent Emma with her younger brother to little Abercrombie while I gathered what I needed for Ethan at big Abercrombie.  In the time it took me to grab three pairs of shorts and a couple of shirts, Emma had worked her magic on her little brother across the hall (much to his dismay).

My youngest child, who is happy to roam the halls of school in dress-code-approved shorts and plain shirts, was standing before me in crisp khaki pants and a smart printed button-down; however the look on his face did not match his outfit.  It was more of a I-can’t-believe-I’m-actually-playing-dress-up-with-my-sister-AGAIN sort of look.

But, that’s not even where the meltdown came into play.

Nope.  Our shopping excursion was on Friday, and while we were cruising the halls of the mall, I remembered I had a baby shower to attend on Saturday afternoon; hence, I needed a gift.  So the three of us popped into Gymboree.  Do any of you remember Gymboree?  Or do you currently shop there?  I LOVE that store.  I used to spend a stinking FORTUNE in that store when my kids were small enough to fit into their clothes!!  As soon as we walked into that store…Emma lost her mind…

Mom, PLEASE have another baby!!! I don’t understand WHY you won’t just have another baby.  You’re not THAT old…

Now, this would have been funny…IF SHE WAS KIDDING.  She was not.  She was DEAD SERIOUS.  And loud.  I cannot impress on you how incredibly LOUD she was.  Conversation in the entire store ceased, and all eyes were on us.  I especially appreciated the part about not being “THAT old.”  That’s nice for her to think that the act of carrying a child will not qualify me for the Guinness Book of World Records. 

Sweet.

I tried to ignore her…as I would have done had she been a toddler and I was shopping in this store for my own children and not for a gift.  I walked away, shaking my head, thinking, is my thirteen-year-old toddler-ing me?

Yes, yes she is.

Mom, I just don’t understand.  You’re just being stubborn.  I’ll help you with a baby…I SWEAR!!

Let’s pause for a moment, shall we?  Do you any of you out there have pets?  Were any of those pets acquired at the request of a child that SWORE they would “help” with said pet?  And how did that work out?  Just wondering…  A baby is a really, really, REALLY big deal.  My husband, good as he is, didn’t “help” when the kids were babies.  Let’s face it, there are some things that only Mommy can do (ahem, breastfeeding)…offering her help was no incentive.

My attempt at ignoring my incredibly persistent and LOUD child did not work.  She oooo’d and ahhh’d over every outfit I picked up.  Then she wandered away from me, and picked up some of her own…from…across…the…store…

MOM, WOULDN’T THIS BE PRECIOUS ON MY NEW LITTLE BROTHER? I WOULDN’T EVEN MIND IF HE TURNED OUT TO BE LIKE ELLIOTT!

Okay, patience depleted.  Not that I was interested in discussing my complete and total family and medical history with the entire store of Gymboree and its employees, but…as we were checking out, I turned to Emma and said, “Look, Sweet Pea, aside from the fact that Daddy and I are staring the Finish Line in the face and have absolutely ZERO desire to start over right now–“

I don’t know what that means, Mom.

Cashier snorts with laughter. “I know you don’t. Listen.  The answer is NO BABY.  Do you know what THAT means?  I cannot have any more babies.  While I do sincerely appreciate the thought that you do not see me as decrepit and capable enough to have another child; it is a MEDICAL IMPOSSIBILITY for me to PHYSICALLY carry one.”

The cashier is now crying.  Emma is staring blankly at me.

“Em…I am MISSING vital parts necessary to sustain the life of a child.”

Elliott is spinning in a circle beside us, completely and totally oblivious to the whole conversation.

Light begins to dawn behind Emma’s eyes.

The cashier steadies herself, and tries to finish up my purchase.

Alright then, y’all can always adopt.

All three cashiers behind the counter broke into raucous laughter.  I took my bag, and ushered my children toward the door before Emma started looking around the store and asking where they kept the actual babies…as though one might be for sale somewhere…

As we were walking out, Emma turned, looked at me, and said…

Mom, you’re being VERY uncooperative.

I could hear the whole store laughing at me as we left.  I don’t think I have EVER had an entire store laugh at me before.  Still shaking my head….

For the record, there will be NO more Louis babies.  I am done.  Whatever you may hear from my daughter…

This event happened roughly five years ago…Emma is STILL asking for a new baby…yet, if I told Emma today I was pregnant, there would be dancing in the streets.

The answer is still, No.

Here’s hoping your day is full of laughter!

-Dallas

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