Three Ring Circus

Today is a momentous day for our family. We are going to the store to buy a trundle bed for T.Puzzle’s room. Our plan is to get T.Puzzle used to sleeping in the pull-out part of the bed (as it is low to the ground in case he should fall). Once he is comfortable and it has become routine, we would allow for his brother to sleep in the regular part of the trundle bed on occasion (I guess only if I’m in the mood to torture myself).

It has taken Mad Dog and me awhile to agree on the type and style of bed we want. We had seen something on-line we both agreed on and were glad to see the same model on the store-room floor.

Sounds simple enough, doesn’t it?

It’s not.

The boys decide that the assortment of beds and furniture on display are there solely for their entertainment. Soon, T.Puzzle is climbing every, single one of the bunk beds and leaning dangerously over every edge he can access. I’m running around with my hands up in what I like to call the ‘perma-catch’ formation. You have to cup your hands sort of like a basket and the object is to always keep them directly under your child. This is not easy. Two year olds are notoriously fast and they rarely stay in one place.

While I am playing “Catch the Two Year Old”, Full Speed is frustrated that he is not getting my focus of attention. He is getting pouty and every two seconds is announcing, “Look at me, I’m in the soccer chair. Look at me, I’m in the football bed. Look at me; I’m lying in the middle of the floor.”

I try to be patient but my patience is wearing thin. I try to calmly explain to Full Speed that I in fact, cannot watch him. I have to watch his little brother. T.Puzzle’s life depends on having my full concentration.

Out of the corner of my eye it appears that Mad Dog is engaged in some chit-chat with the salesman. Ladies, you’ve seen it before. When two men talk with their arms folded across their chests. It looks comfortable, relaxed and lengthy. I want to cry. (In Mad Dog’s defense, he was attempting to negotiate.)

How can Mad Dog not see that I am inches away from losing my mind? He never noticed. He didn’t even bat an eyelash that T.Puzzle almost hurled himself to serious, permanent injury 14 times.

As we exit the store (finally!), T.Puzzle trips dramatically THREE times because he is so wound up. Each time he sprawls across the floor as if he was hit by a bomb. I can’t take it.

We get to our car and T.Puzzle trips AGAIN. I pick him up and he turns his head so fast, I don’t have time to get my face out of the way. The corner of his glasses catch my nose and it hurts. I am beyond frustrated.

I yell at Mad Dog. He yells back. So much for a momentous family outing. Well, I suppose it was momentous, just for all the wrong reasons.

Now that I have some distance from the situation, I’m realizing my frustration didn’t have anything to do with Mad Dog (I am sorry). It couldn’t have happened any other way. Mad Dog had to focus on negotiation and payment and my part of the deal was to keep my children safe (easier said than done). I think why I was so upset is the knowledge that I can’t ever walk into a store setting with my boys and not have it turn into a three ring circus. The good news is circuses are highly entertaining.