Marathon Mom Massacre

Being in desperate need of new shoes and a hydration belt, I ventured to a running store in the valley. Since we are a one-car family, the only times I have a vehicle to go on such trips are when Joe is out of town. This means I have a car, but I also have little ones in tow. On this particular trip I had four year old, Elle, and two year old, Cee.

Previous to the running store, we had stopped at Target to go through the exciting ritual of picking out some new panties for two year old Cee who is bound and determined to NOT wear her diaper. Ugh. But that's another story. Just as a preface to this story, new panties were fresh in my two young girls' minds.

As soon as we walked in to the running store, which is small in square footage, Cee loaded her diaper. Only I didn't catch on to this until I had removed my bag, sweatshirt, and shoes so I could be fitted for new running shoes. It finally dawned on me that that bad smell was MY child.

As I was realizing this, my four year old was animatedly telling anyone who would listen how her little sister was going to be wearing "big girl panties". It was cute, if not a tad embarrassing that she wouldn't stop saying "panties" to complete strangers.

When the shoe guy went to the back to look for my size (which is embarrassingly large as it is), I seized the opportunity to take my two year old out to the car to change her. She was stinkin' up the whole joint and I was starting to worry that now-informed fellow patrons were wondering if it was the aforementioned "big girl panties" that were soiled instead of the diaper she was (most fortuitously) wearing.

Dashing back in the store I resumed my shoe fitting whilst simultaneously trying to help two little girls behave in a store full of bright colored clothes, gel packets, and a working treadmill. While I talked "zero drop" with the clerk, Cee dug through my bag, pulling out various items. I asked her to put it all back, which she did, except for...a clear Ziploc bag crammed full of tampons and pads. Something I didn't notice, but that the young male clerk did.

Cue flaming red cheeks. Because ya' know, I'm sure he's NEVER seen a tampon before. *rolls eyes*

By that point, I was pretty flustered and ready to purchase just about anything the clerk suggested I should. A few minutes later I walked out with a pair of shoes ($110), a hydration belt ($45), two little girls, and a lost ability to look anyone straight in the eye.

By the time I got back home I had realized how idiotic it was to spend $45 on a "belt". 

Now I just have to work up the nerve to walk back in that store. Which just may be worth $45 to me after all.