Introverted Mom Goes to the Grocery Store

Today is Monday.  It is grocery store day.  Introverted Mom and her two sons are going to the grocery store.

No, they're not.

What was that?

No, they're not.

Why, it's Pre-Partum Baby--a tiny, intricately-formed hoodlum nestled safely inside the realms of Introverted Mom.

I've been getting along with my mommy for over fourteen weeks.  I'm going to surprise her with morning sickness.  It will be great fun!

Oh dear, Pre-Partum Baby.  Are you sure?

Mommy fed me soup from a can last night when I really wanted fried mozzarella sticks.  Believe me, I'm sure.

As you wish, Pre-Partum Baby.

Pre-Partum Baby works some baby magic on Introverted Mom.  Introverted Mom woozily ventures to the grocery store a few hours late.

I hate going to the grocery store late.  It is crowded and I am hungry.

They arrive at their first destination, Low-Budget Grocery Store of Sheer Madness.  The store buzzes with middle-of-the-aisle-clogging patrons.  Introverted Mom fearlessly weaves between them with equally courageous Introverted and Extroverted Sons, tossing items in the cart as pertaining to their list.

This isn't so bad.  If only I weren't so woozy.  I just need to relax.

Sounds like a plan, Introverted Mom.

Introverted Mom soon arrives at the check-out.  Plan thwarted.

Two open registers with equally long lines.

Do I pick Ring-an-Item, Bag-an-Item Cashier or Scary Hairy-Armed Man-ish Cashier with the bright blue eye shadow?

Looks like Ring-an-Item, Bag-an-Item Cashier is your best bet, Introverted Mom.

Introverted Mom joins the line.  She waits.  And waits.  And waits.  And waits...

Breathe in, and relax.

Ring...bag.  Ring...bag.  Ring.......

Breathe innn....and outtt......innnnn...and ouuuttt....innn.....

"WaaaAAAAAAAaaaaaAAAAAAaaaaaaAAAAAHHHHH!!!"

Introverted Mom's inner peace is jostled.

Why, it's Teeny-Bopper Mom, bouncing her squalling, not-quite-toddler on her hip as she places mountains of groceries on the check-out counter.

I know what that's like.

Introverted Mom sympathizes.

Teeny-Bopper Mom attempts to placate her wailing bundle of joy.

That's right, Teeny-Bopper Mom, an empty styrofoam coffee cup will do the trick.  Certainly your little blessing will not chomp it, choke, and die.

Introverted and Extroverted Sons are intrigued.  Introverted Son stares in disbelief, then states the obvious facts in a clear, projecting voice.

"That baby's eating that cup!  And it doesn't even have a lid on it!"

Extroverted Son chimes, "That's not safety smart!"

Introverted Mom feigns hearing loss and looks past Teeny-Bopper Mom in hopes of discovering what is holding up the line.

Why, it's Teeny-Bopper Mom's mother, Mama Bopper, loading a separate cart-full of groceries onto the check-out counter.

How on earth is Ring-an-Item, Bag-an-Item Cashier keeping these orders separate?

Good question, Introverted Mom.

Ring-an-Item, Bag an Item Cashier is equally confused.  Teeny-Bopper Mom and Mama Bopper rush forward to sort out the unchecked groceries.

Oh dear...

Introverted Mom scans the other check-outs but sees no glimmer of hope.

I knew I should've just gone to Upper Scale Grocery Store of Sanity.

Meanwhile, Bopper Baby drops said foam cup onto floor.  Teeny-Bopper Mom gasps.

Introverted Mom deftly returns her glance back to Teeny-Bopper Mom.

What happened?  Did the baby choke?  Did she drop the baby?!  Oh.  It's just the foam cup.  Not a huge deal.

Ah, but it is a huge deal, Introverted Mom.

Introverted Mom looks down.

COFFEE?!?!  She gave her small child a lid-less foam cup full of coffee?!?

Why yes, Introverted Mom, the coffee that is now all over the floor.

Heaven help us...

Heaven may not help us, but a few paper towels might do the trick.  Teeny-Bopper Mom wipes up the puddle...somewhat.

Is the other line open yet?  I'm not going to make it...

Good news!  Ring-an-Item, Bag-an-Item Cashier has now sorted out whose groceries belong to whom!

Hallelujah.

Bad news!  The total requires more cash than Mama Bopper has on hand.

How embarrassing.  I can see that happening to me.

Introverted Mom manages a sliver of sympathy.

Mama Bopper searches her cart.  Mama Bopper heaves a few unnecessary items over to the cashier.

Let's see....the bagels, lettuce, and bread go.  The potato chips, gallon of blue sugar punch, and pop stays.  Hmmm....

Ring-an-Item, Bag-an-Item Cashier announces a new total.  It is still more than Mama Bopper had planned.  Mama Bopper scans her cart and fishes through bags.

Introverted Mom is riveted.

What will they choose next...the Easy Mac or the frozen entrees?

An item emerges.

Why, it's a pre-made, refrigerated, foot-long sub!

"No!  Not my pre-made, refrigerated, foot-long sub!"

Mama Bopper has developed an unhealthy attachment to her cellophane-wrapped sandwich.

Teeny-Bopper Mom attempts to negotiate whether or not she will help her mother purchase said sub.

They deal back and forth.  Back and forth.  Back and forth.

Introverted Mom is woozy.  Introverted Mom is unnerved.  Introverted Mom has surpassed her Low-Budget Grocery Store of Sheer Madness quota for the morning.

Aaaaaaahhh!!!  Get me out of here!!!

"Mommy!"

A crystal-clear voice echos off the registers.

Why it's Introverted Son.  Introverted Son has reached his limit, too.

"Mommy!  Let's go to Upper Scale Grocery Store of Sanity!  People are NICE there!  People aren't CRAZY there!"

Introverted Mom squelches a snicker.  Introverted Mom cannot bring herself to chastise Introverted Son's lack of manner.  Introverted Mom spots an open register and dashes towards greener pastures.

Scary Hairy-Armed Man-ish Cashier with the bright blue eye shadow rings out Introverted Family's groceries in record time.  Finally, they leave the confines of Low-Budget Grocery Store of Sheer Madness.

"Everyone buckle up, and we'll put on some hand sanitizer!"  Introverted Mom doles out her traditional instructions when leaving the Low-Budget Grocery Store of Sheer Madness.

After cleansed hands and a quick jaunt around Upper Scale Grocery Store of Sanity, Introverted Family loads into their van and drives towards freedom.

Hey Mommy!  Don't forget about me!

Who could forget about you, Pre-Partum Baby?  You've been making your presence known all morning.

I am hungry!  I need fried mozzarella sticks!  

Are you sure you don't want canned soup?

Moommmmmmyyyyy.....

As long as you don't make me purchase a refrigerated, pre-made foot-long sub, I will give you whatever you want, my precious Pre-Partum Baby.

How about a styrofoam cup?

How about I buy lunch for your daddy and brothers, pound down an order of mozzarella sticks, and then you give me a comfy belly and we'll call it truce?

Deal.

Way to salvage a Monday, Introverted Mom.

Introverted Mom Gives Birth

(In honor of Extroverted Son's 2nd Birthday)

Today is labor day.  Introverted Mom is in labor.

I don't think I'm in labor.

Introverted Mom's contractions are mild.  Introverted Mom's contractions are irregular.  Introverted Mom wants a Valentine's baby.  Introverted Mom kicks back, pops peanut m&m's, and watches the Winter Olympics.

 This is the life.

The afternoon breezes on.  Introverted Mom charts her contractions.

If I just take it easy, Baby Valentine will live up to his name.  I will go to the hospital, be dilated 5 centimeters, get my epidural, kick back and watch ice skating until Baby Valentine is born precisely on February 14th.  A mini-vacation!

Sounds like a plan, Introverted Mom.

Another contraction, stronger than the last.

Breathe through and relax.

The afternoon vanishes.  Time for Introverted Son's bath and bedtime.  Introverted Mom calls Introverted Grandma.

"I'm having more contractions, but they're still scattered apart.  I've had a few strong ones, but it hasn't been too bad.  I think we'll just keep Introverted Son here for the night.  I'll probably go to the hospital tomorrow."

Really, Introverted Mom?

Another contraction.  This one is strong.

A bigger contraction.  Introverted Mom leans over the couch for support.  Introverted Mom calls Introverted Dad into the house.  Introverted Mom telephones Introverted Grandma.

"I was wrong.  We're bringing Introverted Son over.  Right now.  Bye!"

Introverted Dad grabs Introverted Mom's hospital bag.  He rushes over to Introverted Mom who has dropped to the floor on all four, breathing hard.

"Get Introverted Son in the car, Introverted Dad.  Don't worry about me.  I'll meet you out there."

I can't have this baby in the living room!

Introverted Family speeds to Introverted Grandparents' house and drops off Introverted Son.  Introverted Mom fears she may give birth in Introverted Grandparents' driveway.

Maybe if I cross my legs....

Introverted Dad races them onward to the hospital.  It is dark.  It is snowing.  There is a slowpoke nitwit obstructing Introverted Dad's heroic dash to medical assistance.

"C'mon, you #$%&$@ !!!!" yells the Christian, generally mild-mannered Introverted Dad.

"Go Introverted Dad!" cheers Introverted Mom.

This is going to make the best story ever.

A red light.  Foiled again!

*pant pant pant*

"Don't worry.  I'm just panting to help with the pain.  I'm perfectly ok," reassures Introverted Mom.

Tomorrow I will confess what I liar I am.

"You say the word, and I'll go," proposes Introverted Dad.

Introverted Mom looks both ways.

"Ok, GO!!!!!!!!" commands Introverted Mom.

The hospital glows on the horizon.  What a glorious sight!

I think I can, I think I can.....

Introverted Dad parks in the front circle.  He whisks Introverted Mom up to the motherhood wing.

After a series of mundane hospital paperwork procedure, Introverted Mom finally checks into a room.

"Take this gown into the bathroom and change so we can check how far along you are," advises nonchalant Monotone Nurse.  Introverted Mom reluctantly obeys.

Another contraction.  The urge to push.  Super strong.

I am NOT going to give birth in the bathroom! 

Breathe, Introverted Mom!  Breathe!

Introverted Mom makes it back out to the bed.   Another contraction.  The urge to push.  Introverted Mom pants.

"Just try to relax and take deep breaths" coos Monotone Nurse.

I am trying not to deliver this baby right now, Monotone Nurse!

"I can't tell how far along you are.  I'm going to go get another nurse for a second opinion" declares Monotone Nurse, as she scuffles out of the room.

You're going to what?!  Why are you leaving me?  How long will you take?  Why are you walking?!  Run, lady, RUN!.....owwwwwwwwww!!!!

Introverted Mom grabs the bed rail for dear life.  After a full 60 seconds, she sheepishly turns to Introverted Dad.

"Are you doing ok?" squeaks Introverted Mom.

Introverted Dad blinks.

Another contraction.

Where's that blasted Monotone Nurse?!?  Does she want Introverted Dad to deliver me or what?!

"I need you to get a nurse in here!" wails Introverted Mom to Introverted Dad.

Finally, Monotone Nurse returns with her superior, Slightly More Competent Nurse.

Another contraction.

*pant pant pant pant pant pant*

"Just relax and take deep breaths.  Breathe innnnn........breathe outttttt...." drones Monotone Nurse.

I am not hyperventilating, you wannabe lamaze lady!  I am trying to keep this baby inside!!!

"She's at 10," mumbles Slightly More Competent Nurse to Monotone Nurse.

10?  That means I can push, right?

"Can't I have my epidural now?" wails Introverted Mom.

"Sorry, you're at 10.  It's too late," replies Monotone Nurse.

Oh. Crap.

Introverted Mom wants the baby out.  Introverted Mom wants the baby out now.

"NO, don't push yet!" panics Monotone Nurse, marginally changed in pitch.  "We need to wait for your doctor to come!  She'll be here any minute!"

Wait for my doctor?! The one who's currently driving here in this blizzard?!

Nurses swarm the delivery room.  Introverted Mom continues to cling to the bed rail for dear life.

Guess I don't get to watch ice skating tonight.

Another strong contraction.  An excruciating urge to push.

They said I'm at 10.  I know I'm allowed to push.  I know they're fully capable of delivering a baby.  They just don't want to do the dirty work.  Well guess what, ladies.......

Introverted Mom has had enough.

The next contraction hits.  Introverted Mom feels the power.  Introverted Mom goes for the gold.

"The head's crowning!" gasp the nurses to one another.

You bet the head's crowning!!!

The nurses scramble to find the nearest doctor on the floor.  Finally, a doctor arrives, grabbing his gloves and announcing his name.

What did he say his name was?

He could be the maintenance man for all you care, Introverted Mom.

"There goes my water!" growls Introverted Mom, defiantly pushing away.

"Stop pushing!" order the nurses, stricken with a deer-in-the-headlights look.  "We need to wait for the doctor to get his gloves on!"

Catch it bare-handed, buddy.  That's why I'm paying you the big bucks.

Introverted Mom assumes the proper delivery position.  The contractions intensify.  Introverted Mom needs to bite something.  Bad.  Introverted Mom instinctively raises the first thing her hand clutches to her mouth and opens wide.

What is this?

Why, it's Introverted Dad's hand.  Strong and sure.

Introverted Mom connects wide eyes with Introverted Dad.

Oops...

"It's ok...you can bite my hand if you need to," reassures Introverted Dad.

Awww....

Another contraction.

Owwwwwwww!!!!

Ah, the proverbial "ring of fire."

The books really weren't kidding!

 No, they weren't kidding, Introverted Mom.

"Head's out!" cheer the nurses.  

Almost done!

One final push, Introverted Mom!  You can do it!

"The baby's out!" announce the nurses.

"Praise. The. Lord!" heaves Introverted Mom, falling back into the bed.

"It's a boy!" state the nurses, displaying him to the delighted Introverted Parents.

A boy!  I'm so happy!  That wasn't so bad after all.

You are awesome, Introverted Mom.

A cry fills the room.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"

Whoah, that's no little baby cry.

"What is THAT?!" a bewildered Introverted Mom asks Introverted Dad.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!"

"He's got some healthy lungs" declares Introverted Dad.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!"

No kidding.  That's quite the warrior's cry.  We may very well have a little extrovert on our hands.  Our little Extroverted Son.

The nurses clean, weigh, and wrap the wailing wonderchild, start Brahm's Lullaby on the hospital loud speaker, and soon return Extroverted Son to Introverted Mom.

"This is what we call a 'Stop-and-Drop' baby," laughs Monotone Nurse, slightly musical after all.

Extroverted Son chews his hands and raises his wide eyes to Introverted Mom.

This is what I call perfection.

Extroverted Son captivates Introverted Mom and Introverted Dad.  The baby who would be born on Valentine's Day entered the world on his own terms, chose his own date, and created an entire scenario worthy of a good laugh.  Extroverted Son has a lot to teach his Introverted Parents.

I will recount this gold-medal story some day, so we will never forget.  Until then, I'm going to bask in the glow of this sweet little boy who has changed our lives forever.

Sounds like a plan, Introverted Mom.  Sounds like a plan.

Introverted Mom Visits the Library

Today is library day.  Introverted Mom and Introverted Son are going to the library.

The Children's Department is abuzz.  Today is Perky, Positive-Reinforcement Mom Day at the library.  Introverted Mom and Introverted Son scope out the scene.  The train table is empty.  So is an adult-sized chair.  Introverted Mom and Introverted Son stake claim.

While Introverted Son chugs the choo-choo, Introverted Mom scans the book titles.  Berenstain Bears Go on Vacation.  Berenstain Bears Visit the Dentist.  The Butt Book.  Clifford and the Kitten.

The Butt Book??  Who on earth would write a children's book about butts?

 Artie Bennett would.

Who on earth would read a book entitled The Butt Book?

Introverted Mom at the library would.

      Eyes and ears are much respected, but the butt has been neglected.

This is hilarious.

      We hope to change that here and now.  Would the butt please take a bow?

"How high can you count, Bryson?!"

Introverted Mom's train of thought crashes.  It's Angled Bob-Hair Mom, showcasing her children's special talents to Sexy-in-a-Sweatsuit Mom.

 Good grief...

 "C'mon, Bryson!  Tell us how high you can count!"  Bryson buries his nose in a book, one with chapters.

"And how high can you count, Trevor?  Can you count to 10?  Count to 10!  C'mon, Trevor, you can do it!  Onnnne.....twoooooo...."

 For gosh sakes, Trevor, just spit out a number!

 Trevor joins Introverted Son at the train table.

"He just says '100' because he thinks he can count to 100," Angled Bob-Hair Mom reassures us all.

I didn't hear Trevor say one word.

      In England, where they call moms "mums," people call their buttocks "bums."

"Where you live?"  Trevor destroys Introverted Son's solitude.  Introverted Mom glances up.  Introverted Son continues to play.

"Where you live?"  Trevor presses.  "Where you live?  Where you live?  Where you live?"  Trevor steps closer to Introverted Son until finally, a clear invasion of personal space.

 "By Sandy's house!" growls Introverted Son.  Introverted Mom smirks.

      Butts have cheeks just like our faces...

"Where you live?  Where you live?"

My gosh, Trevor...

"Oh Trevor, that's a personal question!" laughs Angled-Bob-Hair Mom, connecting eyes with Introverted Mom.

"It's ok," replies Introverted Mom.  "He said 'by Sandy's house.'  Sandy is our neighbor."

"Well that's a good answer!" cheers Angled Bob-Hair Mom.  "Good answer, buddy!  Way to be safe!"

Safe from all the perky people in this world.

      Fanny, bottom, heinie, rear...

Angled Bob-Hair Mom visits with Sexy-in-a-Sweatsuit Mom.  The children play.  The shower of positive reinforcement continues to rain.

Angled Bob-Hair Mom has such energy.  Angled Bob-Hair Mom stays so positive.  Angled Bob-Hair Mom would never yell at her children.  Angled Bob-Hair Mom probably says "bottom" instead of "butt".

"Let's not touch the fishies!  We don't want to get germies!"

Angled Bob-Hair Mom would never tell her children the fishies might bite their fingers off.

      Giraffe butts are supremely tall, but mouse butts are extremely small.

"Take off your hat and show everyone your new haircut, Trevor!"

Introverted Mom glances up.  Trevor has removed his ball cap.

Not too shabby, Trevor.

"I cut it myself!" boasts Angled Bob-Hair Mom.  "It's soo cheap and soo easy!"

Angled Bob-Hair Mom's children probably never look like they've battled a lawn mower.

      Best in show or just plain mutt, every doggy has a butt.

A rustling at Introverted Mom's feet jostles Introverted Mom.  Why it's Trevor, raiding Introverted Mom's library bag.  Trevor has found Buzz Lightyear, Introverted Son's best friend.

This ought to be interesting...

Introverted Son's back is to Trevor.  Trevor manhandles Buzz Lightyear's helmet. 

"No-no, Trevor!"  Angled Bob-Hair Mom sweeps across the carpet.  "That's not our Buzzy!  That's his Buzzy!"

"Buzzy"?

Introverted Son looks up.  Introverted Son's body tenses.  Introverted Son's eyes explain all:  Do I cry or slug him?

"Look here!  A book about butts!"

Way to understand your son, Introverted Mom!

      On their butts, skunks have a gland...

"Now Trevor, let's remember to not touch Buzzy!  That's not our Buzzy.  He just thinks all toys are his!" laughs Angled Bob-Hair Mom.

Was somebody talking to me?

Introverted Mom bristles.  Angled Bob-Hair Mom has relocated to another adult-sized chair...right next to Introverted Mom.

Am I supposed to converse?  Is that how this moms-at-the-library thing works?  What do I say?  Where did Sexy-in-a-Sweatsuit Mom go?

"It's ok.  He can see Buzz."

Trevor obviously complies.

I hate teaching my children to share.  If some stranger was molesting my favorite belonging, I'd want to slug him, too.

"We like Buzzy at our house.  This is a nice Buzzy.  We just have a small one," explains Angled Bob-Hair Mom.

I guess I have to chit-chat.

"He got this one for Christmas.  It's great because the wings don't pop out, and he doesn't make any noise."

"That IS nice!  So this Buzzy's like a friend for both of you!!!" chirps Angled Bob-Hair Mom.

Go away, Angled Bob-Hair Mom.

"Umm....sure."

      That sprays a stink no one can stand.

Angled Bob-Hair Mom spots Newcomer Mom and flits over with a bright greeting.

"You've been here before, haven't you?  I've seen you here before!  I just know I've seen you!"

Introverted Mom deftly slides the Buzz bag under her chair with her feet.  Introverted Son spies the sole Thomas engine, currently held by Trevor.

      When dancing, you can shake your booty...

Trevor abandones Thomas for a wooden car, then scampers over to race on the table.  Introverted Son seizes the moment and captures said tank engine.

Trevor returns.  Trevor spots Introverted Son with Thomas.

"Mine!  My Thomas!  You no like Thomas!  Me like Thomas!"

Trevor really does think all the toys are his.

Angled Bob-Hair Mom swoops in the middle.  "Now Trevor.  We need to share.  This little boy needs a turn, too.  Let's share with him.  It's fun to share!"

"NO!  My Thomas!  Aaaaaaaahhhh!!!"

Sharing really isn't very fun.

Introverted Son feels the injustice of Trevor's attempts to snatch Thomas.  Introverted Son has surpassed his people interraction quota for the day.  So has Introverted Mom.

"It's ok.  We really need to be going anyways.  Let's go pick out some Thomas dvds and go home to see Daddy."

And so Introverted Mom and Introverted Son pack up their belongings, Buzz Lightyear included, and dash out the door.

I wish somebody had warned me today was Perky, Positive-Reinforcement Mom Day at the library.  I may need a few weeks to recover.

Introverted Mom starts the car.

I bet Angled Bob-Hair Mom goes home to her perfect house and blogs about Anti-Social, Unstyled-Hair Mom and Her Socially-Deprived Child.

      Don't undercut your butt, my friend...

A muffled rumble stirs the back seat.

"Hey Mommy!"

"Hey what-y?"

"I have a stinky butt!"

"Excuse you.  I bet you feel refreshed."

"Hey Mommy!"

"Hey what-y?"

"I love you, Mommy!"

     Your butt will thank you in the end.

Take that, Angled Bob-Hair Mom.


*All quotes taken from The Butt Book, by Artie Bennet, illustrated by Mike Lester.  Yes, this book really does exist.  No, I do not read it to my son.  :)