Gratitude Friday...

Listen.

It is entirely likely we will never be allowed in our local Chick-fil-a or Wal-mart again.  

Yes, yes, it has been THAT kind of week.

Yesterday, Rhys lost it...LOST IT...when it was time to leave Chick-fil-a.  We'd been there two hours and I felt like that was long enough.  Tot Time was at 10 am and we'd gotten there by the skin of our chinny-chin-chin.  They'd had a story read to them, colored a picture, gotten a book to take home as a gift (we love our CFA), climbed all over the play area, eaten lunch and had an ice cream cone as a treat.  

And we'd had two poopies.

I mean, I feel like that's enough to squeeze into two hours.

Generally, I start giving them warnings about how much time they have left.  I learned with Aubrey Kate, she handles transitions better with at least 15 minutes worth of adjustment time.  So it goes, "Littles, we have 15 minutes left."  To 10 to 5 to, "Okay, let's hit it!"

At which point, Rhys goes crazy.

He didn't want to leave so he physically fought me every step of the way.  

Kicked me trying to put on his shoes.  Knocked over my drink on the table.  Soda everywhere.  Then he hide under the table.  I had to crawl on all fours to drag him out.  Then he ran off towards the door where, thankfully, the sweet CFA employee caught him just before he busted through door number two and was hit by a car.  I had to pick him up and carry him over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Then physically hold him down while I strapped him in the car seat.  

He was screaming and kicking the entire time.

The looks from the other customers...pretty sure they wanted me and my craziness to GO AWAY.

Y'all, I wasn't angry or impatient or yelling or, heaven forbid, hitting him back.  I simply wanted to get out of there as fast as I could.

We weren't even out of the parking lot before the tears had totally dried up and he was acting like normal Rhys.  

Which, let's face it, is a little spastic too.

Then today.  Oh today.

We had a thing to do in another city.  It was gonna be a 45 minute car ride.  And I needed some of my protein bars.  (For reasons we don't really understand, the high protein diet, which includes these bars, keep the muscle weakness away.  Mostly.)  So I thought we'd pick up AK from preschool, run by the grocery, grab some bars and then head out of town.  I told the kids they could pick out one treat each to eat in the car while we traveled.  

We got into the Wal-mart and Rhys TOOK OFF.

Like it was a super fun game of chase.

Aubrey Kate runs after him yelling, "Rrrrrrhhhhhhyyyyyysssss!!!!!!"

(SIDE NOTE:  Future parents, please, for the love of your sanity, please ask a four year old to yell whatever name you are considering for your child.  Think long and hard about how that squeal FEELS in your ears.  Make a recording of it and play it over and over and over again until you want to crawl under the covers for four months.  Then, and only then, can you make a decision about the name.  You're welcome.)

I'm begging Aubrey Kate to please, stop running after Rhys and stop screaming.  Eventually, he'll turn around.  When he does, he then runs FULL SPEED towards us.  

Watch out, people, Steamboat Rhys is coming through.

You've been warned.

He then takes a sharp turn just before he gets within arms length and takes off in another direction.  

Now, I'M the one yelling.  Because I can't seen him in all the aisles.  

When I finally catch him, he falls to the ground like a limp rag.  Which he must KNOW...he has to know...it makes him crazy heavy.  I pick him up, get eye ball to eye ball, hold his arm firmly and have the conversation.  

And by conversation I mean I tell him he is one wrong move away from death.

He gets mad.  Throws his super hero at me.  Which I pick up, put in my purse and throw him over my should like a sack of potatoes.

Are you sensing a theme here?

He gets and screams and tries to bite (thank you, coat) all the way to the car.  He managed to wiggle a little lose for a second and got just free enough to SLAP ME ACROSS THE FACE.

Y'all, I don't know where he gets this.  I'm never slapped him.  Neither has Chris.  And, heavens, Aubrey Kate wouldn't even know what that was.  

I tried my best not to look around at anyone else but I could FEEL them staring.  

And not nicely.

Once again, I had to physically restrain him to get him into the seat.  

Thanks to the stinging face, I was not as patient today.  I totally raised my voice.  But only once we got in the car.  No need to draw more attention to us than necessary.  

And once again, we were barely out of the parking lot before the tears dried up and he was quiet.  I didn't allow him to speak the rest of the ride.  Every time he attempted to speak, I would sternly say, "No sir.  Quiet."  And, lucky for him, he obeyed.  He fell asleep about 15 minutes down the road.  And about 15 minutes after that, I cut Aubrey Kate off from the talking too.  

Momma needed quiet.  

We did our task, went to play with some friends for an hour and then headed home.  During the 45 minute ride home, Aubrey Kate somehow got cracker crumbs DOWN her dress.  How does one do that while strapped into a car seat?  These crumbs caused much distress.

She cried the entire way home.

Rhys, not to be out done, took one of his shoes off.  No idea why.  But he wanted me to put it back on.  While I was driving 70+ miles an hour on the turnpike.

Clearly, not gonna happen.

So he also cried all the way home.

Good times.

That brings me to this, friends...

...I am grateful today is done.

And that the babysitter is coming any minute to watch a sleeping house while I go get my bars ALL BY MYSELF.  It is totally worth the ten bucks for that.