Merry Christmas Dear Husband of Mine

I've been getting a fair amount of flack from the Husband ever since the UP posting.

Apparently, I am far too one sided about what I choose to post on MY blog. I have no idea what he's talking about. It could be he's feeling rather sensitive about the fact that a lot of people keep asking him if he's taught the dog any new tricks, then say "UP!!" and start to giggle. Whatever.

Today, when mentioning a slight mishap that happened to me on a shopping trip, instead of getting a drop of sympathy, the Husband's only comment was, "OH....but you won't blog about that!"

So, without further adieu, Merry Christmas, dear.

I headed to Mark's Work Wearhouse today in a vain attempt to find an eluded Christmas gift.

'Insane' would be the only descriptive word that would describe the store....at 10:30 am on a Tuesday morning. I should have known it was a recipe for disaster when I had to wait for a parking spot. But, no, I figured heading into the store with a 2 and a half year old strapped in a stroller would be a good idea.

As soon as we entered the store, the Baby started insisting that she be able to get out and walk. I kept telling her no, we'd be quick, and she'd have to stay in the stroller.

Picture me walking through the store, trying to get the stroller past endless displays and boxes and shoes and boots and all other assorted stuff laying in every aisle, not to mention the PEOPLE, oh my gosh, the PEOPLE. The Baby started screaming once we're at the farthest point from the door, and I finally came to my senses and decided to leave.

This was NOT what the Baby wanted. She wanted to, "WALK!!! DOWN!! I WALK!! NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!" As I tried to put her in her car seat, she adopted the human spine board pose and refused to bend so I could put on her straps. Feeling like everyone in a two mile radius was watching me and my pathetic parenting skills, I heard a window rolling down in the car parked next to me.

I turned around to see a lovely grandma type lady leaning out her window.

"Excuse me," she said. "I'm sure you don't want to hear this, but there's a sticker on your backside."

And I reached back and pulled off a clothing sticker with the size 50 regular written on it 3x in big bold lettering.

I started to think about exactly how early on in the store that the size 50 sticker adhered to my butt. I think I might have said thanks to the lady but to be honest, she was kinda smirking at me and it's all a bit of a blur.

With that, I forced the Baby into a 90 degree angle, buckled her in, hucked the stroller into the van and drove away, dreaming of Baileys and sleeping children.

So there you go, dear Husband of mine.

Merry Christmas.