Queen of Rambles

Don’t you hate weepy days? I do. I haven’t had a weepy day in ages upon ages, but I guess today was my day to let loose with the maudlin tears. Oh woe is me. I’m smack dab in middle of my cycle so I can’t even blame PMS. Not that I usually get weepy during PMS. Instead, I usually get grouchy and mean.

I went to my formerly favorite quilt shop this afternoon and left in tears. Mike was supposed to be home this afternoon, but his work is kicking his ass and all these promised early days are like so much smoke in the wind. Now you see it, now you don’t.

I really had to have some things and I had told my friend I would see her there, so I decided to brave it with Erik. He does obey, sort of (don’t laugh Ellen). He is doing a lot better in stores these days and I’ve been teaching him the “only use one finger to touch” system so that makes it somewhat possible to have a decent shopping excursion with him in tow. Not ideal, but life isn’t always ideal.

The shop is a good 30 minute drive, so we gassed up and hit the road. Erik, being the contrary child he is, fell asleep fifteen minutes into the ride. You’d think this is a good thing, except he is a terror when he wakes up and even a short nap ruins his night routine.

We got to the shop, walked in, and saw the dog. I had forgotten about the dog. The owner of the shop has a smallish dog just perfect for kid chasing. It is a nice dog and well groomed, but it is a DOG. In a shop. I am not a fan of animals in places of business, but as soon as Erik saw the dog he lit up and it was keeping him occupied while I browsed the bargain bolts for some backing fabric.

No one said anything about it and we were grooving along with me trying to make sure Erik was behaving while enjoying my fabric browsing.

Then the owner came in. She immediately told us that the dog likes children, but does not like to be chased. I can understand that. I wouldn’t want to be chased by a two year old either. However, Erik is two and he doesn’t understand and he wanted to do nothing but chase the dog.

Thus began the shopping trip from hell.

Chase chase chase.

No no no!

Chase chase chase.

Scream scream scream.

Frustration frustration frustration.

Spank! Spank! Spank!

He was crying and squirming and throwing a full blown fit. The dog was trying to hide, but Erik has good eyes. One employee was giving me a sympathy smile. The other employee was acting oblivious. The owner was ignoring the situation completely.

I gave up. I grabbed a fabric for the backing and a remnant that will be perfect for a swap block I’m working on and got the hell out of there, my child kicking and screaming all the way. I was so angry! Why couldn’t someone have put the dog away? I was angry at Erik for not listening to me, but I was also angry at the shop owner for putting me in the situation to begin with. A dog is too much temptation for a two year old. He doesn’t have the best impulse control in the world to start with, so to throw one of his favorite things in his face and then expect him to act like a little automaton is just not going to happen. Why couldn’t they have locked the dog up in a backroom or something? It was clear that the dog took precedence over a paying customer, so I got the hell out of there and am not ever going to go back.

I was so angry when I got home that I even wrote the shop owner an e-mail and explained my feelings. Her reply was apologetic, but I don’t quite buy it. She said she would have put the dog away if she would have noticed what was happening, but how could she NOT notice? There were only a couple of customers in the whole store and Erik was screaming down the house.

As soon as I got in the parking lot, the tears started to fall. Like I said, I HATE being weepy. It was just so frustrating to go all that way and not get to enjoy myself for even a single second!

All during the drive home, I wound myself up tighter and tighter. First I was mad at Erik for being so naughty, but then I decided it wasn’t his fault at all and I was a terrible mother for not recognizing the fact that he is TWO and has poor impulse control. Should he really be punished for doing what comes naturally when there is a freakin’ DOG in the store?

By the end of the trip home I was telling him how sorry I was that he couldn’t play with the dog and telling him what a good boy he was. Talk about your mixed messages. I need to get a grip.

As soon as we got home, I tried to take him out of the car and he had a complete meltdown. Writhing, screaming, kicking, the works. He buckled himself back in (sorta) and demanded a car ride. I was so tired and defeated, that I hopped in the car and drove. As soon as I turned right out of the parking lot he had another conniption. I was going the wrong way. I turned around and pulled into the park. Another fit. He didn’t want to play at that park. I lost my cool again and started screaming at him. That didn’t help. I have no idea what he wanted, but I brought him home and stood outside the car crying as he sat buckled in his seat, refusing to come out. Luckily Mike appeared at that point and had the joy of bringing him upstairs.

It’s a good thing there isn’t a Dairy Queen very close, or I totally would have been slurping up a hot fudge/marshmallow cream sundae.

To top it all off, half a purple crayon got in with a load of whites. We are about to enter the era of blueberry socks here at Chez Possum.

Tomorrow will be better, right?

This entry was posted on Tuesday, April 15th, 2008 at 8:24 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.