The First Laugh

Not even my latte perked me up today. I just wanted to be alone in a movie theater with a bag of popcorn and a big diet coke. For a triple feature.

But instead I was at home with two (adorable) toddlers who drove me crazy at every possible opportunity. They found a pair of dueling yellow whiffle bats and used them on each other until I "hid" them in the recycle bin.

Josie decided today was the day she wanted to start potty training. Of course she would pick a day when I didn't feel like being in the same room with her, let alone monitoring every facial movement she made to see whether she might have to go to the bathroom in less then the time it would take to get the toilet. Changing diapers never seemed so appealing.

We went to the park twice today. Both times the clouds came together, covered the sun, and it started to pour just as Josie ran up the slide and Owen threw a handful of tanbark. I carried two screaming 30 lb potato sacs to the car while they tried everything to wiggle their way to freedom.

As I carried a distraught Josie and Owen to the car for the second time, a woman chased after me because Josie dropped her stuffed animal. Really, lady? A missing stuffed animal was the least of my worries. I told her to give it to one of the five dogs she was walking.

Safeway seemed like our best Plan B. I could get the kids a cookie, some groceries I had forgotten to get yesterday, and a second latte at the in store Starbucks. Plan B was looking more like Plan A-mazing.

I waited while Owen and Josie kicked and yelled for a few minutes as they fought over who would sit in the front of the basket and who would be stuck under a pile of groceries in the basket. With Josie beaming in the front and Owen sulking down below, I pushed my way through the parking lot glaring at the sun that had broken through the vengeful clouds.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a scruffy faced middle-aged man in torn jeans and a red and black flannel looking at me and my shopping cart. I stared ahead in disgust. Either he was checking me out, which in my present state was both doubtful and appalling, or he was shocked that someone wearing a Stanford hat couldn't effectively use modern birth control. Both of my thoughts were equally irritating. I walked faster.

"Hey," he said as he jumped off the hood of his beat up Camaro.

'Oh God,' I thought. 'Is he talking to me?'

"Are you going to try and return those?" He said in a louder voice.

I looked around to see if there was someone behind me carrying a set of hunting rifles with a large paper receipt. But there was no one else around.

I finally made eye contact with him and realized he was smiling a toothless smile and pointing to Josie and Owen.

Without a second of hesitation, I yelled back, "Absolutely," and laughed for the first time all day.

Fortunately Josie and Owen are still too young to understand white trash humor.