Crash Cart

Please tell me I am not alone.  Tell me that my children are not unique in their attempts to kill themselves several times a day just to give me a coronary...Tell ME that I am not losing my damn mind!

Huh hmm.  Sorry. 

So, I decide this morning that it would be fun to take the kids to the local diner for breakfast and then on to the store to pick up a few items.  A little routine break.  A little socializing.  A little fun.  I shower, I dress.  I attack Felicia's hair and Kenny's shoes and we are ready to go. 

Things start out wonderfully.  Kenny is learning to buckle his own seat belt, saving my back.  Felicia still hasn't pulled out the clip holding her hair from her eyes, she is adorable.  Small miracles are always the best.  The diner is fairly empty and we chat with Jen, the waitress and friend who dotes on us as if we are royalty.  Everyone cleans their plates and the sticky fingers brigade heads to the bathroom to wash up.  A smooth, sweet and relaxing break in the routine of life.  A treat.  (ha ha, the diner's name is Treats Cafe)  I am so funny.

Heading back to the truck, we sing "Hup 2, 3, 4," marching along with giggles in our hearts and smiles on our faces.  On to the store.  We hold hands across the parking lot and enter the store.  Greetings come from all sides since we are regulars, and this is a small town drug store.  Most comments center around the kids.  They must...they are so damn cute and just love being the center of attention. 

Felicia gets deposited in the cart, buckled and kissed.  Kenny, the big boy, stands at my hip just like he is supposed to.  What a great kid.  We chat as we pick up lightbulbs.  We debate the best looking paper towels and argue about needing a new broom.  How do you explain to a child that a fancy, flashy display of new items doesn't mean we need that item?  Anyway, we are having a good time.  We stop in the toy section and Kenny chooses a few new HotWheel cars to add to his collection using the money he makes doing his chores.  I grabbed a little dolly for Felicia.  La Dee Da.  What a wonderful day.

We make one last stop in the office supply section so I can pick out a new whiteboard.  As I am weighing my choices between price and size, I see my son jump on the side of the shopping cart out of the corner of my eye. Before I could even yell at him to get down, the cart tips sideways, landing on Kenny and pushing him into the hard, sharp metal display shelf.  Felicia, buckled in, gets slammed into the upper part of the shelf as the cart comes to rest on it's side, pinning her arm and her brother.  In a flash I drop everything and scream their names as they just begin to cry from the shock.  With super-mommy strength I grab the cart, full of stuff and pick the whole thing off the ground and right it on it's wheels.  I squat down, gathering Kenny up in a baby hold while I rub Felicia's leg with my other hand to calm her down a little as I assess the damage. 

A very nice gentleman, ran up to us and asked if the kids were ok.  I barked and hissed at him as I ran my fingers over Kenny's back and the scratches and bruises I found.  The poor guy walked away silent.  It didn't even register in my head that he was there until he was gone.  He most likely thinks I was an evil bitch.  Hum.  "Sorry Mr Guy-in-Yellow-Shirt"  but the world honestly disappeared the moment my kids were in trouble. Gee, now that I am writing this I feel even guiltier.  ick.

A full scale body check found:  Kenny, large bruise and small scratches on his lower back, knot on his head and a little scratch on his cheek.  Felicia, little bruise on her arm and one on her knee (although that could have been from yesterday's picnic).  They crying was short lived, we all calmed down and went about our way.  During checkout, both kids were a little fussy, but a stop at the Coffee Shop for a mocha (for me) a chocolate milk for Kenny and a Strawberry milk for my little Felicia, stopped that and spirits returned to normal. 

My spirit did not go back to normal so easily.  I spent the next two hours trying to figure out why my children are bent on killing me by attempting to kill themselves!  This last hour I spent thanking my stars that there was no blood, punctures or ambulance rides.