Pass the Amaretto, would ya?

This morning I looked at my ever-growing list of errands to run and realized that it was inevitable. I'd have to leave the house.

Now, I am terrifically lucky. I have a wonderful support system who help out immensely when it comes to watching the kids. My mother in law has babysat more times than I can count, just so that I can go to the grocery store and actually fit food into my carts. Seriously, without her, it'd be all babies and diaper bags, I'd maybe be able to squeeze in a gallon of milk. So calling for help is usually always an option.

The thing is, I hate asking and I'd really hate feeling dependent. So, after a brief pep talk with myself, I decided to brave it solo. At 11:30 Emma climbs off of the bus, I pop Elle off of the boob, and the adventure begins.

I am no sooner making the turn out of our driveway before it starts.

Never, in my life have I come across a baby who hates car travel as much as Elle does. Well, let me qualify that. She hates traveling in a car at speeds less than 60 mph. Anything under that, and she immediately begins to wail. You know the one, where it sounds like her toenails are being pulled out with rusty tweezers? Good.

I set my shoulders and roll on. First stop, the drive up pharmacy. This goes relatively smoothly, despite the fact that Emma keeps mentioning in a very loud voice that they have lollipops, she can see them right there through the window, and couldn't she and Evan PLEASE HAVE A POP? I pretend to have selective hearing and pull away.

Our next stop is a town over and about a 10 minute drive. Elle's reaching a crescendo when Evan starts in.

"Emma. I knee dat!" he says, pointing to her Dora figurine. "I knee dat. I knee DAT. I KNEEEEE DAAAAT!"

The whole car seat is bucking wildly as he attempts to free himself to steal Dora. Finally, apparently fearing hearing loss, she hands it over.

"Tank you" he says calmly. I echo the sentiment.

This calm lasts less than 60 seconds before he and Dora have a parting of the ways and he flings her across the vehicle. The cacophony starts back up again. By this point, I'm grinding my teeth.

We arrive at the bank (another drive up window!) and again Emma mentions that SHE CAN SEE THE LOLLIPOPS! AND THEY HAVE THE PURPLE ONES AND THE PURPLE ONES ARE THE BEST ONES AND CAN THEY JUST PLEASE GET A POP?! I grudgingly accept two lollipops from the highly amused bank teller, telling Emma that she can have one only after we get home and E V A N is taking a N A P.

"Okay" she says brightly, "I can't wait to have my yummy purple lollipop when Evan is napping". Evan, hearing the N word immediately begins squealing again, alternating bellowing "Doooooraaah" in a manner that puts Stanley Kowalski to shame with his mantra of "No nap, no nap, no nap!"

Now, by this point, I'm realizing that I have forgotten to place breast pads in my bra before we left the house, and that all of Elle's crying has caused me to leak, leaving two breast milk stains on my shirt roughly the size of fried eggs. I begin to wonder how long I've been sitting there like this and speculate this might be why snobby bank teller looked so amused.

Our last stop is Starbucks where I have to pick up Christmas gift cards for the teachers that tolerate my children all year. By this point, all of us are crying. Emma because waiting for her pop is just a burden she can no longer bear. Evan for Dora and an afternoon spent sleepless. Elle because Mommy is not a NASCAR driver, and now that you mentioned it, the boob would be really nice right about now. And I'm sobbing because Starbucks refused to spike my latte. I asked.