A blogger that I also follow on twitter,
Nik (
BEAUTIFUL HAIR) mentioned going to the post office goes from errand to event with 2 kids, so I figured it was a perfect time to document why I will NEVER go to the post office again with my two boys for another year. I probably didn't post about this because although it was funny, I was pretty upset and traumatized.
A lot of my friends are either getting married or having babies and since we moved to Texas, its not as easy to travel to some of these showers....therefore I mail the gifts. Wellllllll, this summer as you know from this
post, I was having a hard time keeping my toddler entertained and because of that, sometimes he would skip his afternoon nap.
What I learned this afternoon is tha naps are VITAL! So anyway, he didn't have a nap and y 3:00pm, it was clear that he would sing and babble for 2 more hours if I continued to leave him in his room. Instead, I needed to mail two different packages out for a friend's daughter's birthday and for the shower of another friend. I get to the post office and our post office is rather small and has 3 sets of double doors with no automatic open. Great. So I push the stroller through each door by holding the doors open with my foot, but Drew decides NOT to follow me. I should've turned around and went back to the car then seeing that he was not in the mood to obey, but for some reason I didn't want to be defeated.
While I'm trying to write addresses on labels and put clothes and toys in two different sized boxes, Drew is running to the double [glass]] doors and putting his face and hands on the door. People are walking in and out of the post office of course too. So I have to leave the baby at the little work bench and grab his hand/arm back to the workbench about 15-20 times with him yelling at
EACH step, no lie. Still, I didn't leave. I continued to work on my packages while stopping every minute and a half to two minutes to pull my oldest boy back to me. Each times, saying in a stern and deepened voice, "Stay with mommy!" I''m getting looks by the workers that either say, "I've been there," or "That little girl can't control her kids." Lol....since I am a short mommy, I think people prejudge me thinking I'm from the MTV Show 16 & Pregnant. In ole conservative Texas, I wanna wear a shirt that reads, "Don't ask...I'm knockin on 30." :-) Anyhoo, waht easily could have been a 10 minute deal took me THIRTY minutes! I said my little short prayers, I damn-near yanked his arm out of socket when grabbing him (times 17, 18 and 19) and not once did he get the message. Finally I got my packages taped after one of the workers came over and helped me and I left without waiting in line to mail them.
Once back at my car, I'm scolding him with all kinds of attitude and I put him in the car first with my baby in the stroller next to me. To show him attitude even more, I roll my eyes, throw my keys between his legs and shut the door...hoping that he'll see just how mad I am. Literally, one second goes by and I hear *click.* WTF. He locked the door on me. So much for me showing him who's boss. A guy, mid-30's, pulled up next to me and asked if I was locked out.
Me: "Yeah, my kid locked me out."
Him: "You want me to call the police? Since your seats are leather and its 100+ degrees out, it'll get hot quick."
Me: "Welllll......yes, thanks." (knowing/hoping that since he loves to press buttons, he'll eventually push the unlock button). He calls the police and while he is explaining the situation, I'm hearing *click click* over and over again and I'm yanking the door handle (you know like when you're pulling a joke on someone with the lock button?). Finally around the 10th yank and 5 whole and
HOT minutes, I get lucky. That was the unlock button. The guy hangs up and says to me, "I understand, I have 3 kids." I smile and say "thanks again" open the door, get my keys and finish putting the boys in their seats and of course blab and laugh about this on the phone. Once home, Drew is knocked out.
::big, slow and frustrated sigh::
Now, I go to the post office only when my 20-month old is at his part-time preschool. Mommy learned her lesson.