We got to the MOA and had some lunch. I went there for two things. One was long dangling earring for my oldest two girls and a Build A Bear GC for my middle. We walked into Claire's where the boy immediately went to the back of the store and grabbed a handful of necklaces and took them off the wall. I took them away (the girl was staring in awe of everything girl in the store) and was attempting to take them apart to put them back onto the wall in the right spots when this older woman (I think she was moody because she had to work at Claire's a bunch of seventeen year old) came up to me and "offered" to put the necklaces away. I told her I could do it and she said that she insisted and that I should then "go and get my son".
Hackles rose.
I will admit it. I become quite bitchy when someone judges me based on one witnessed event that is neither here nor there. What I wanted to say was "These penny necklaces made in China by 6 year old's that will immediately break but not before turning your neck green are just fine, woman" mixed with a big "B***h, back the f**k off" (Where did my God fearing Christian womanhood go in that moment?)
Instead I said quite haughtily, "I take my business elsewhere". Too bad for Claire's because they must not have realized that I have FOUR girls that LOVE the crap at Claire's.
We left and went to Build A Bear, which went well. As we were walking back through Nordstroms, I decided to check out the kids section, where I was able to find some earrings 50% off. As we were leaving, my son knocked over a shoe. I was way over by the door (but I could see him clearly) and yelled to him to put the shoe back on the shelf and that we needed to leave.
He said "no".
By this time, my body hurt from dragging these kids around. They had run crazy through every aisle when I was buying the earrings, which took way longer then it needed to. They were being crazy. I had to decide if I wanted to walk all the way back over to have him put one shoe back on the shelf.
Crap. Okay, so I tell him we pick up things that we cause to fall and that he has to put it back. He again says no, so I hold his hand to bring him back over. He immediately goes limp. I then end up dragging my child back over by the hand as him limp body dusts the rich floors of Nordstroms. He picks up the shoe and puts it back on the shelf. I say "Good job buddy".
I look up and see this lady who has witnessed the whole thing. I brace myself. She speaks and says "Good job mama".
I try to remember that when later that night they cover my house in a Costco size bag of pancake mix.
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