Toy Story

Being a mom is hard. And some days I can't really pinpoint why its hard. Its not brain surgery. I wake up when the kids call for me. I feed them. We run around outside, I push them on the swing. On occassion, I change their clothes, change their diapers and change their sheets. When you list everything out, it doesn't seem that difficult. But at the end of most days I feel like I have run to Timbuktu and back.

Today was a difficult day. I stood at the refridgerator door for what seemed like hours trying to figure out what to feed them for breakfast. Each whine, each fake cry, each quarrel over a year old happy meal toy was like nails on a chalk board. I wanted to scream at them. Sometimes I did. But nothing made me feel better and nothing made me less tired.

On today of all days I decided to take Josie and Owen to the new toy store in town to buy their friend a birthday present. My first mistake was not having a real idea about what I wanted to get. What I should have done was gone in, got what I wanted, bought it and dragged Josie and Owen out kicking and screaming. My second mistake was even entertaining the idea of taking them to a toy store without leashes.

The one good thing about fatigue is that I quickly gave up and let them run around the store like the crazy children that old ladies say tsk tsk to when they walk by. Fortunately for me, the store had plenty of unwrapped toys, bikes, and a thomas table for the children to play with so they were, for the most part, legally occupied.

After finally deciding to grab a bunch of art supplies, I ran to the counter, apologized for the mess and told Owen and Josie to see who could get to the car first. I noticed Josie took an early lead because Owen was weighed down by the horse puzzle he had smuggled out of the store.

"Owen!" I yelled. His whole body jumped with fear. He looked down, handed me the puzzle and continued on in his quest for second place.