Commence Meltdown

After my wonderful porch time yesterday, I felt ready to take on the world. Or at least ready to take on errands with my two young ladies in tow. As yet, I have only attempted drive-thru errands or trips to friends' houses for play dates. Yesterday,
I needed to:
*Gas up my ride
*Hit the bank - ha! I mean make a deposit at the bank. "Hit" sounds like I was ready to rob it! Not so much...I'm too big of a wuss. Oh, and I guess my morals swing the other way. Anywho...
*Mail some of the diapers I sold - so I needed to go to the post office and get a box and such...
*Swing through the grocery store for pumpkins and butter. Pumpkins because I want to make more puree and butter so I can make my man some cookies...well, and to be sure we had a treat for Biggest Loser.
Simple stuff.
Ugh. If only.
I stopped to get gas and the pump was malfunctioning. It kept saying that my tank was full, which it was not. I have never experienced this before, so I thought A) there really is a full tank and our gas gauge is broken or B) I'm an idiot and can't figure out how to pump gas.
I was pretty sure it was B. I called Richard, who told me to head to another pump or station and try there. I was too embarrassed to just drive to the next pump, so we went to another station. Ha! My husband is so smart! I now had a full tank and was ready for errands.
And lunch.
I called my mom to see if she wanted to meet us at a cheap place after I hit the bank. She was already meeting her friend at a nicer establishment than I had in mind and invited us to join them. After making sure she was TOTALLY SURE, I agreed to meet her as soon as I went to the bank.
I used to work for a local bank. My job was to be the "extra" for all the branches. I worked at one if someone was sick, another if someone was on vacation. I loved it because I got to work with everyone and get to know customers all over the city and stay our of the drama that comes with working in one branch.
Yesterday I pulled into the bank parking lot and saw one of my former managers BBQing outside (for a special promo~bank people will do anything for accounts!). We exchanged pleasantries as I made my way to the front door. That's when Raegan, who had been napping in the car, noticed the balloons tied out front for decoration.
Commence meltdown.
She starts yelling "Balloon! Balloon!" and running toward the balloons while I am trying to hold onto Harper's carrier, keep the door open with my toe and maintain hold of her coat so she doesn't run in the street to get to the balloons. Did I mention it was super windy? And that the BBQing manager just watched and kept chatting away with me while I was struggling to be polite, discipline, and keep the door open?
Nice.
We make it inside and the place is packed with young professionals. Socializing over their cookies and punch in the lobby. Weird promotion, but banks will do anything. I notice they are nicely dressed and speaking in quiet, business tones.
The doors open and a gust of wind stirs up a disheveled Mommy balancing a wailing toddler and sleeping infant through the doors and right in the middle of their meet and greet. I ducked my head slightly and made my way to the counter.
God bless that sweet teller. I used to work with her and she is funny and sweet. And a mom herself.
"Sucker and sticker, yes?" She asked.
I wanted to hop over that counter and kiss her.
But they have rules against that sort of thing, you know. Bank security and all that.
So I nodded gratefully and shoved the sucker in wailing girl's sweet little face.
We chatted. Did business. I turned to go, this time carrying Raegan to make life a bit easier. Suddenly the entire network of young professionals, many of whom I used to work with, are holding the doors open for us. Ushering us out, if you will. I walked through the tunnel of high heals, touched-up faces and nicely ironed suits, very aware of my black turtleneck, (no doubt stained with spit-up), puffy jacket and jeans (which have a hole in the crotch that I was desperately hoping no one would notice). In the middle of the double doors (and the walls of people with plastic smiles waving good-bye) Raegan dropped the receipt I asked her to hold. We stooped down to retrieve it and headed into the blustery day. And the blustery day swept up Harper's blanket and threw it across the parking lot just as the bank doors shut behind us. More hobbling. More wrestling with young ladies.
Finally shut in the car, I laughed and called my best friend to tell her the Tale of The Frumpy Housewife amidst Fancy Professionals. I giggled over how I used to click my heels (literally) right along with them.
We had a mostly uneventful lunch with my mom and her friend. Mostly. I do have a toddler and an infant, you know. But nothing blog worthy happened.
On to the post office!
I had to ship cloth diapers to a sweet gal from craigslist. I grabbed what looked like the right sized box, encouraged Raegan to stay with me and help carry Harper's seat; whatever I could to keep her from ducking through the legs of the gentleman in front of us to move along in line. The quiet hum of the post office was often interrupted by my excited, shrill daughter. Ah, well.
Finally our turn, we shuffled ourselves to the kind lady calling us over.
"Are you shipping these to someone in the military?" She asked, politely and curiously eyeballing the diapers.
"Oh...did I grab the wrong box?" I asked while politely and subtly grabbing Raegan's coat hood to keep her close by.
I had grabbed the wrong box and had to leave my pile of children, er-stuff, to duck back in line and retrieve the right one while Kind Lady directed me to the right place on the shelf.
Funny how I never before noticed how awkwardly quiet a full post office can be.
We taped up the box, got Raegan a Tootsie Roll, stuffed in the diapers and -
"Blast! I forgot the address in the car!"
"That's ok. We'll just get this paid for and you can take the label out, get it ready and bring it back for me to just stick it on."
I was so relieved I almost hugged her. But you know, PO security and all...
"Oh, wait. I'm sorry, I have to know the zip code before I can process the payment."
Sigh. Of course you do. "I understand. We will be back."
She encouraged me that I could just run out and slip back in her line, but my Mama didn't raise a rude kid. At least not one who is knowingly rude. I turned to usher my pile out the door. That's when I noticed that Raegan had lost a shoe. Fortunately, it was right there. Unfortunately, I bent down to help her put it on and I'm pretty sure the entire post office got a nice juicy shot of my crack. This last pregnancy took my tush away and my pants don't quite fit the same.
Nice.
I had barely stepped away when we were almost knocked over by the man in line behind us. I was strangely comforted that Kind Lady seemed no more impressed by his urgency than I.
Out to the car to scrounge around for a pen and the address. And to block the man in the spot next to us in with our open car door. Oops.
Back inside the PO to find our box, slap on the label, pay and get the heck outta there.
Another Tootsie Roll for Raegan. Ah, well. The girl was being pretty good. Don't think about the two Tootsie Rolls. Or the sucker at the bank. Or the ice cream and chocolate cake my mom shared with her at lunch.
We hop back in the car and I realize that I can't go to the store. Our store only allows you to use debit cards if you know your pin. And my bank just sent me a new card and pin. Twice I have had to leave the store without the things I went for because I couldn't remember the pin. Which is why I had gone inside the bank instead of through the drive-thru like a wise mom.
Ugh. Back to the bank. But I went to a different one.
At this point we'd been out for 4 hours. I refused the candy offered to her at that branch. I let her run all over. It was wonderfully empty and one of the tellers I used to work with played with Raegan while I changed my pin. Another kept Harper with her at her desk. And when I left only one sweet man held the doors open for us. I wanted to kiss him.
But, you know, marriage vows and all...
One more stop and we were headed home.
I pulled into the store's parking lot and heard Harper (who I had fed at lunch and who had been amazingly quiet all day) stirring and...yup. I hear a diaper change sound for sure. I parked, stuck my girls in a cart and headed to the bathroom to use the big stall. As long as Raegan is corralled in the cart, I might even use the restroom, I though to myself.
A large sign forbidding the admittance of carts in the restroom didn't surprise me. Nor did the woman with her two children already using the big stall. I wrestled a sugar high Rae and bounced a now crabby Harper and took a few deep breaths.
Smiled politely at the mom exiting the desired stall before rushing in. I took care of Harper while begging Raegan to:
"Get off the floor, Honey! Yuck!"
"Yucky, Baby! Stay away from the toilet!"
"Yes, Harper's hat does fit you. Pretty! No, don't-ugh. Ok. Let Mommy have it. We don't want her to wear it now."
"All done! Let's wash your hands! Seriously, Rae, I can see the germs swarming all over you right now..."
Why am I at the store again? Ah, pumpkins. Butter. Richard better love these cookies.
We finished our business, shared a cheese stick and got back in the car.
We pulled out, rejoicing that home was the next destination.
Commence Harper's meltdown as we pull out and start our 20 minute drive home.
Nice.
My day ended much like it had begun: Nursing Harper while laying on the couch and thanking God for helping me survive.
And for creating the person who though up Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip cookies.