Family Shopping on Family Day Weekend

So today I was reminded, again, about why we don't go shopping as a family very often. Honestly, I think having my tonsils removed through my ears with no form of sedative or freezing would be far more attractive. For real. I'd choose that hands down over the whole shopping as a family thing. I love my family. I love shopping. But combining the two?! YIKES.

It's Family Day weekend here, which loosely translated means that "they" {haven't figured out who "they" are, but I think I like 'em a WHOLE lot!} finally figured out that there was WAY too long of a gap between 'holiday' days from New Years to Easter, so they made one up in February just for fun. It's all speculation and all, but I'm assuming they chose this time frame because it's likely a time of year when domestic violence increases - you know, when everyone gets pissed off at each other and is ready to beat the ever loving life out of each other. I love winter; have I mentioned that? No; you're right. I haven't mentioned it. Because that would be a big fat LIE if I DID say that. I LOATHE winter with every ounce of my body (and believe me - there are a helluva lotta ounces in this body). Anyway, it's Family Day weekend. So what could be a more perfect way to spend some 'quality' time together (loosely translated; that means tolerating each other and trying desperately NOT to blow gaskets at each other) than making a trip to Pet Smart and Big Al's to get some fish and 'stuff' for our new aquarium. Sounds like a fantastic family outting. I mean really - bonding in the car for almost an hour; calmly and rationally picking out fish and accessories, TOGETHER, for our new tank; lunch out; a quick trip to Costco for a few 'necessities' (because EVERYTHING at Costco is necessary - even though you ONLY went in to buy laundry detergent); a quick stop at the new MEC store and then a popcorn and coffee filled trip to the mall - what more could a family ask for?! That SCREAMS a swimmingly fun time, doesn't it?! Huh?! Don't you think so?!

Well, maybe. In theory. Or only in my dreams. Or delusions. You pick. However, it must be noted that my other half gave up the chance to go skiing with his brother, sister in law and his neice and nephews to go on this shopping extravaganza.

What it actually means is dragging 2 teenaged girls out of bed (Teen has a friend here this weekend . . . actually, it's been nice . . . they've entertained each other and I haven't really heard too much from either of them); encouraging (translated: PLEADING) Banshee to get dressed and brush her teeth (seriously . . . what IS the reason for aversion to tooth brushing? Do they LIKE the feel of catshit in their mouths or tooth to tonsil carpeting?); and getting myself ready. I'd like to point out that it is VERY rare for anyone to sleep past 7:00am in this house, and this morning we were doing JUST that (and I needed it . . . this old lady was out "Rockin' for a Cure" last night and was up past my bedtime), but someone (I can honestly blame the In-laws for this one) called at 7:20 and woke the whole damn house up (well, everyone except the teens, but they could sleep through world war III, so they don't count). It was a tough thing to get myself up and moving, but you know, it's all about priorities and all, and well, shopping IS a priority, so I took one for the team.

We got ourselves ready, and when my other half and Imp returned from basketball, we headed out to the city. The drive there is always fantastic. I've got the teens in the very back row, and Imp and Banshee in the middle seats. BAD mix. The whole purpose of this van was to S-E-P-A-R-A-T-E the kids (let me tell you, if some car company would design a vehicle with a sound proof wall between each row (or even better around each seat - or even just the drivers seat), I'd be their FIRST clients), so I can guarantee you that we knew, heck the whole highway knew, that the two little kids were sitting together. And stretched out from the radio to the very back seats is the auxilliary cord for Teen's iPod that was pumping out the most brutal "music". I became VERY aware that my Teen daughter doesn't choose 'radio edit' when she purchases music (and when I ask her to kindly not play the non-radio edits in front of her 6yo sister, I was met with *THE* look - you know, the one that screams out SCREW you!). I also became aware that the 'buzz' word in the music industry is some form of "FUCK". Just sayin'. Anyway, she wants us to turn it up. My other half wants to listen to the 'classics' station (because "our" music has made the transition to classic already. Have I mentioned that we're apparently quickly approaching senior citizenism?); Banshee is just complaining because that's what she does best (have I ever mentioned that she is *PERFECT* little sister material? Oh yeah, she's mastered it); and Imp just wants the music off all together. The bickering was insane. I quickly intervened and threw down the "Mom" card and stated that since *WE* (Mom and Dad) make the payments on the van, we'll make the musical decisions. The Classics station won (much to the chagrin of Teen).

Of course someone pipes up that they have to go pee. Oddly enough, it was NOT Banshee. It was Imp. He doesn't understand why I won't stop. It's one thing for their mentally unstable mother to stop on the side of the highway where cars are whipping past at 100+km and jump on the hood of the car, but it's another to allow an 8yo boy to whip out his manhood on the same stretch of highway to pee. Besides, I'm sure there's laws about that somewhere, isn't there? AND . . . if I let HIM do it, then I'd have to let Banshee do it, and well, that would be a disastrous; probably resulting in ME having wet hands and sleeves. And feet. As we thunder along the highway Imp is getting more and more urgent in his pleas. And his baby sister?! Why she was ever so helpful reminding him every 100m or so that he needed to think about something other than peeing. As we exited the highway, I gave Imp instructions to undo his seatbelt (along with his Dad) and they would jump out (Dukes of Hazzard style) as we pulled up in front of PetSmart. Sounded like a great plan; well it DID; until the chronic pee-er announced in a dramatically pained voice "I have to pee R-E-A-L-L-Y badly". From previous experience, we definitely don't want to 'mess' with that statement. It needs to be taken at face value. As luck would have it a spot relatively close to the store opened, so we turned the van into it, unloaded and BOLTED to the potty (well, everyone except me. Apparently I'm the only one who can manage my bladder? Which knowing my bladder track record . . . that is VERY remarkable . . . although, I don't use public washrooms unless I *HAVE* to. OCD much?!).

Then we started the 'exciting' task of picking out plant life and decorations for the aquarium. Yeah. It was exciting alright. As exciting as a root canal. Imp picked out a couple of fish for his tank (he has an impressive aquarium in his room). Banshee, with tear-filled eyes, accused me of ONLY loving Imp and HIS tank. I explained that SHE would get to pick some of the fish for the family tank (but we'd get OUR fish at the other store. It wasn't enough. She wanted a kitten. Or a guinea pig. All the while, Teen keeps talking about how when SHE gets older she's going to get a cat; in fact she's going to get several cats; that she doesn't 'care' that she's severely allergic to them. Honestly . . . I don't doubt her; I can TOTALLY envision her as the crazy cat-lady. We quickly got what we needed and got out.

Then we loaded into the van and travelled the 2mins to Big Al's Fish Warehouse (seriously . . . if you've never been to one, it's WORTH the trip. WAY cool!!). However, those 2 mins felt like 2 hours. They don't ever "just" load into the van. They fight; they argue; they cry; they bellyache; they accuse; they irritate each other (intentionally) and just in general create issues. By the time we coasted into Big Al's, I'm frazzled. The second we step into the store, we pass a little wishing well/pond affair that people toss loose change into; to which Imp declares, loudly I might add, "free money!". We get inside and start looking at fish. I've got kids scattered from end of the store to the other, I can hear their excited voices screeching out "I want this one. No. I want THIS one". I've got Teen angry at me because I won't allow her to buy a Nemo or Dory fish. I don't want to start out my new tank with an 'expensive' and high maintenance fish until I'm comfortable with it, and have it well established. I thought it was pretty responsible for me to have that thought process, but Teen assured me that I was just dumb (I get reminded of this almost daily); Imp is upset because I won't buy him one of those 'big ass' fish (that would probably go for the jugular if I got too close to the tank; and Banshee want's a lobster. Or a jellyfish. Oye. My other half talks to a 'fish expert' trying to find out what our best options are. I try to listen, but I spend more time chasing my children through the store, and trying to redirect Banshee because she's totally hung up on the fact that she's STARVING, and tells me so every 5 seconds as though I can pull a gourmet meal right out of my purse. We finally decided on a certain kind of fish. As parents, we made the executive decisions about what 'family' of fish we were getting, but allowed each kid to pick which ones they wanted. Yeah, even that caused issues. After much sweat and tears, we FINALLY decided, and left the rest to the fish catchers. They neatly handed us the bags and sent us on our merry way. We met another little hiccup when trying to pick out what background sheet we chose for behind the aquarium (the decorative picture thing that makes it look like an underwater scene), but in the end, my other half called the final shot on that. We finalized our sale, and moved on.

Next stop? Costco.

For real. We went to Costco on a Sunday. Yes, we're idiots. And YES, we DID learn a valuable lesson from it all. First stop; the snack bar. I ask Teen and her friend to get us a table. They ignores me. When I ask her again it was as though I've asked her to give up her firstborn child. Or her iPod or phone - because honestly, I think giving THOSE up would be more traumatizing than her committing her firstborn child. We quickly decide that we'll just order a whole pizza; a tray of fries and a tray of poutine; because every woman suffering from major gallbladder issues needs to trigger an attack in the middle of Costco by eating that kind of shit. Although the meal itself was trying (just a million little things), we managed through without any major catrostrophic events. Then we headed in. Into the abyss known as shopping hell. Costco is an interesting place on a weekend day. ALL the crazies are out; including one woman who was aimlessly pushing her big-ass cart around (and into everyone and everything) as she was talking on her cell phone. She finally pissed off enough people that one woman PLOWED into her. HARD. And she dropped her phone; and it snapped apart into several pieces. I am VERY proud to say that I had NOTHING to do with this - although I also admit that I laughed right out loud. Loud enough that I elicited the death darts look from the broken phone lady, but I think mostly she was pissed that I didn't offer to bend over and pick up her phone pieces for her. Or it was because she knew I was laughing at her misfortune; which I was. I wove (weaved?!) my way through the aisles, mentally spending thousands of dollars; and actually spending a little better than $100 (even though I was almost exclusively running in to only get laundry detergent). However, I have to tell you all I got both Banshee and I AWESOME new bathing suits (for DIRT cheap), so I was pretty excited at that. The crowds? I wasn't so excited about it. By this point my other half is getting grumpy; I already AM grumpy; the little kids are tormenting each other; and the teenaged girls are nowhere to be seen (thank heavens for texting). It takes more than an hour to make our way through the store, and when we finally get the detergent, we head to the checkouts. Seriously?! That was SO SO SO painful. My other half takes the little kids to the van - we're smart enough to know that making them wait in this mass pandemonium is NOT going to end well. Either that, or he was worried that my 'joking' threat to pay for my items with a kid or two was in fact reality. Which honestly . . . maybe it was. Have I mentioned that they were extra 'fighty', 'arguey' and 'whiney' today?! Because they were. Very much so. Did I mention that they sucked another little piece of my already endangered sanity out?! They didn't just suck it out; they chewed it up and spit it out. But it's Family Day weekend, and by golly, we're spending quality time together as a family.

When we FINALLY fought the masses - I'm serious, it's almost an olympic sport as we sprint across the floor with our heavy carts vying for a position in the shortest line (which after *ahem* 29 years of life, you'd think I learn that shortest almost ALWAYS means longest wait - you know, the aisle with the price checks or the little old lady who is POSITIVE that it's on sale, or that she has a coupon or it needs a price check). Eventually we made it out. Alive. Barely, but definitely still breathing. We head out to the van, only my other half and the little kids aren't there. I start loading the van, but there is NO way I can lift the honkin' bags of softener pellets; and of course, waiting, with his signals on, is a car. He's waiting for me to load the van and pull out so he can have my spot. I'm really trying NOT to be an asshole (true story - I KNOW that I can be an asshole at times, but this was not one of them), but 1) I can't lift the bags of salt and 2) I don't know where the other half of my family is and I can't just drive off. As tempting as it was to just up and leave them behind, I couldn't. I needed to remain where I was. Where my other half KNOWS the van is; plus I've still got the damn salt on the bottom of the cart (have you ever tried to lift one of those bags when you've got bad knees; carpal tunnel and a sore tailbone? Eventually the man peeled off, but only after he lowered his window, flipped me the bird, and in the off chance that I didn't 'catch' that gesture and it's meaning, he bellowed out a hearty "FUCK YOU". Being the bitch that I am, I just smiled and waved back. And in that very second, another car pulled up and turned his signal on. Oye. BUT . . . by this time, my other half and his merry potty troop have made their return (of course . . . I SHOULD have known they were in the bathroom). We get everything and everyone loaded in; I hiss out that we're playing the "quiet game" (which means be quiet and leave Mommy alone before she goes COMPLETELY loco); and back out. By the time I reach the end of the aisle, the bickering is starting; I've got Teen bugging about us plugging her iPod into the stereo; and I'm ready to jump out of the moving vehicle. Or to commit myself to a nice padded room with lots of free drugs and macarame. Is it wrong that that actually sounds like a pleasing and relaxing environment?! We pull onto the highway and work our way home. I ask my other half if he wants to stop at MEC (which he's been pining about because *I* went without him already). He didn't. And THAT speaks volumes to where his patience level was at. Then I ask if he has enough coffee for his Keurig and if we should stop at the mall to get some. I barely get the quesiton out of my face and he replies "NO. I just want to go home. Popcorn isn't that important". The funny part is that I never said anything about popcorn (from Kernels. OOHHHH . . . yummy kernels . . . ). I had mentioned coffee. When I called him on it, he sheepishly smirks and said something to the effect that popcorn and coffee purchases went hand in hand.

So, we drove home. Part of mission was aborted, but it was a necessary change. Had we made any other stops, chances are we'd have sold a kid or 2. Or I would have been taken away and put in a mandatory 3 day psych evaluation; and really, that would defeat the purpose of Family Day, I mean, my family wouldn't be in tact, right? The kids bickered, argued and talked at us, and we both found our 'happy' spot, blindly agreeing and nodding when necessary; you know, defensive parenting - where you do your best to save any sanity that you may still have, all the while appeasing the little critters in the back seats that seemingly have an endless list of things to discuss.

We arrived home (to a house that smells divine with the turkey we cooked for dinner -mmmm . . . yummy turkey dinner), and everyone found their own little happy spot (the Teen girls out for a walk; Banshee in front of the TV; Imp perched on the royal throne with a book and me here on the computer. Except my other half. Bless his heart, he arranged all our new aquarium stuff, and got our new little 'friends' settled into the tank to aclimatize them. He even made a trip to Canadian Tire and the grocery store (by himself . . . no kids were invited - and I certainly wasn't about to suggest it - I mean, I DO value my marriage and all. It must also be noted that I didn't ask him to buy the weeks groceries . . . I'll take care of that later).

And that my friends, was our trip to the city. We dealt with the aftermath of the above trip all evening . . . the kids were WIRED. And what have I learned?! That we won't be making a family shopping trip ANYWHERE, anytime soon.

Or at least until the next time, right?!