Two nights ago, I needed to run to Target to get a few things for an upcoming trip.

The entire day leading up to it, I was making my list, envisioning myself pushing the scarlet cart up and down the aisles, leaving the kids at home with Andy while I try on cute shoes and cheap bras.

Andy comes home from work, takes his laptop in the bathroom, the kids are screaming that they want some sort of snack, BUT NOT THAT SNACK A DIFFERENT ONE MAYBE I DON’T KNOW MAMA I’M HUNGRY BUT NOT FOR THOOOOOOSE.

I’m trying to get ready, Andy reappears…

We’re out of diapers.

There’s a new box in the pantry.

And wipes?

Also in the pantry.

The boys were hungry so I gave them a jar of banana peppers, but Gigi won’t eat them, what can she have?

*smooshes face into the wall*

What?

Just give her here, I’m taking her with me.

Why do I do that?  I never leave Andy with three kids, I always take one, to make it easier for him.  But, why can’t it be easier for me?

A date with myself.  No struggling with a car seat.  No public restroom diaper changes.  The only candy bar bought in the check out line at Target will be mine, and I won’t smear chocolate down the from of me so everyone thinks I shit myself.  Or maybe I will, I don’t know, it’s my fucking day, and if that means the teenager ringing me up at Old Navy will leave me alone about the fucking credit card, consider it done.

Target, Old Navy, a burrito from Chipotle in the car while I sing along to my Glee soundtrack in the parking lot, maybe see Bridesmaids, hit up Sam’s Club for some samples, then circle back around to Old Navy to get the jeans I talked myself out of getting because they only had a size below mine, but I’m buying them anyways, because I just had a day by myself, I feel powerful, and I am going to will these fucking things to button.

How would you spend your day?

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