Some days we moms are on top of the world. We are Supermommy. We’re like Stacy’s mom: we’ve got it going on. And then there are those days when we are vividly reminded that we are human and that you-know-what happens. This is about one of those days.
We picked up what I needed, browsed the Barbie aisle (because with three girls you can’t NOT go down the Barbie aisle), and then made our way to the checkout line. My nine year old’s incessant talking was interspersed with fussing and arguing with my five year old. Layla, the baby, was screaming because she was hungry and I was digging through my pocketbook looking for that stupid 20% off coupon that I was certain I had placed in there before I left home. I shoved a glass bottle full of milk at Layla, told the other girls to
shut up behave and tried to take some deep breaths knowing that in just a few short minutes we would be in the van on our way home.
As the cashier rang me up (and I was still digging in my purse for that darn coupon) I felt a quick tugging at my pants leg.
“Mama!!!” screamed my five year old.
I looked down and saw droplets of blood all over the floor and my daughter’s clothes and more blood dripping out of her nose. I quickly grabbed the diaper bag to look for something–anything–to hold over her nose. I asked the cashier for forgiveness and a roll of paper towels. I finally found something in my bag and I helped Madalyn pinch her nose to stop the flow of blood.
By this time a small crowd had gathered behind us in line. I couldn’t complete the payment transaction because my daughter was bleeding like a stuck pig so I was holding up everyone behind me. None of whom offered to help me by the way–and this was way before anyone knew what Ebola was!
It was at that wonderful moment when Layla decided to hurl her bottle onto the floor. Her glass bottle. That cute purple rubber bottle protector was no match for the toy store concrete floor. I was nearly reduced to tears as I looked at the mixture of Madalyn’s blood, broken bottle glass, and my breast milk all over the Toys R Us floor. Meanwhile an angry mob of people had us surrounded. (Okay, so maybe they weren’t really surrounding us–but it sure felt like it at the time.)
Deciding that escape was my only way out of this situation, I swipped my card, grabbed my receipt and got out of the store as fast as I possibly could leaving some poor unfortunate store employee to clean up a pile of glass mixed with our family’s DNA.
And that, my friends, is a true story. And you thought you were having a bad day.