This is happiness.
What else can I do but laugh when this little life of mine is just plain crazy? Laugh and then blog about it, of course.
Come with me on a little journey to the local mall.
Scene: I had been painting and cleaning all day. Two of the girls have been sick and grumpy and needed to get out of the house, get over of their bad moods. An impromptu trip to the mall food court/ playplace was in order.
Off we went.
Dinner commenced without incident. Mongolian BBQ for the grown ups. McDonald's for the littles.
Fun fact: I have convinced my kids that I am allergic to McDonald's. They believe me. When we are out together they never even ask for it. Brilliant. Scheming and lying? Yes, but brilliant, none the less. They only get to eat it when there is another edible option for me, i.e. the food court. Or, when their much too nice grandparents cave in and take them.
But back to the story, I found out that not only was there a brand new H&M, but it was an H&M WITH KIDS STUFF, YO!!!!!!!
That is happy news in these here parts, especially considering that I haven't been to the mall in so long that I didn't even know one was coming, much less already open. I don't know who was more excited, me to go to H&M, or the girls to go to the playplace.
Jason hung back to get a cookie from Paradise Bakery. You see, I am halfway through a self imposed 40 day sugar fast. Considering the fact that I haven't murdered anyone yet, it is going very well. But to sit alongside someone eating a delightful cookie, would for sure send me over the edge.
The big girls were walking and I was pushing (not-so) Bald Baby in the stroller, towards the elevator and off to the happy lands of a new store and indoor slides.
Suddenly, a guy blocked our path.
He looked at the three girls and I and exclaimed: "Three girls!!!!!!! Poor you!!!!!!"
(Which by the way, MAKES ME CRAZY. That is a whole rant in itself.)
It took me a second to figure out that he was the guy working at the curling iron/ flat iron kiosk and was
Why is it always some skeevy dude that works there? I'm fairly certain that he doesn't use a curling iron, nor do I trust a guy that uses a flat iron.
He looked me up and down.
In my sugar free, messy bun, no makeup, paint under my fingernails, glory.
With three impatient kids in tow.
Skeevy Dude: You don't always look like this do you? (Lots of big hand motions pointing out my various issues.)
Me: (Silent. Staring.)
Skeevy Dude: Like, maybe sometimes do you something with your hair? Maybe style it? Do you have a flat iron?
Me: Yes. (Gritting teeth.)
Skeevy Dude: Come over here. My flat iron is so much superior to yours. It will make it easy for you to actually care how you look.
Me: No. (Peer over his shoulder. See the elevator nearby open. Fetch my children. Scurry away.)
That my friends, is a surefire way to not sell anything to anyone.
Although, I totally need a new flat iron, and I heard that those are amazing.... But for now I will never know.