It brings out the crazy

In the spirit of I-don't-care, this post is going to be whatever the opposite of political correctness is, other than Paris Hilton on PCP.

I did the stupidest thing I could possibly do today: I took the girls shopping. Boy, do the lunes come out in full force when there's a good sale!

While waiting in line for my much-needed Starbucks, I heard Kristin behind me saying, "Mommy, it's yellow! It's yellow, mommy! Mommy!" I turned to see all three girls staring blankly at a teenager about four feet away. This kid had a huge - no, huuuuuuuuuuuuge - blue mohawk with yellow racing stripes on each side of his skull. What the hell is wrong with his parents? I like mohawks, but damn! This breaks so many city codes for structures that I almost did a citizen's arrest for stupidity.

Our next stop, the bathrooms (duh, I have three preschoolers), was filled with drama as this jackass with a walker - young girl, not granny, and unhappily there were no tennis balls - glared at me when Emma took one step in front of her. I apologized immediately and pushed Emma back into our single-file line to let her pass, but was met with some not so nice words. I like to think that I'm especially accommodating for people who have unique circumstances that make life difficult, but this chicky made me wanna kick out her walkin' sticks and yell, "Suck that, BITCH!"

At the "broccoli" - the name we've given the play area at the mall - there were at least two dozen kids, which is pretty full for its small size. Kristin was hanging off a toy, minding her own business when a little boy about three inches shorter rammed into her from one side (intentionally), walked to her other side and rammed into her again, and then pushed her back before coming at her with fists flying in some sort of bizarre flirting-hate ritual. I watched the other parents' expressions to see if a mom or dad would step in to say "Honey, we don't hit." No one came forward to claim the apparent orphan, so I walked in, pulled a stunned Kristin off the floor and said loudly to her, "If that little boy hits you again, you say, 'Don't hit me!' Can you say that? 'Don't hit me'?" She repeated it and a nearby dad gave me a smile. I gave him a look in kind that said If he does it again, I'm going in to beat his little latchkey kid ass.

We then walked the mall before stopping to peek at Santa. After last year's "fun" picture-taking incident (read: screaming torturefest), I figured looking was as good as getting up close. A nameless woman walked up to my girls and said, "You're not going to go see Santa and sit on his lap? Maybe if you asked mommy really nice. It doesn't even cost a penny!"

For anyone who knows how shy Emma is, can you imagine her body clinging to my leg with the horror that I might drag her in to see that fat, too-excited, child-hugging man in the suit? Alison and Kristin were pumped because they thought I was going to get in a line at least forty bodies long so they could look at the tree and toys up close. WRONG!

Just before leaving the mall, I had to discipline Alison by making her sit along the wall. I had it all under control and was chatting happily with Emma when a woman walked by and said, "Triplets? I don't envy you!" I replied, "I don't envy me, either," and under my breath I said, "not with all the stupid people I've met today." The ladies sitting behind me at a table started to laugh, and with that I grabbed Alison and hauled ass outta there.

On the way out the door, Alison fell and because of her emotionally fragile state, immediately broke into tears even though she wasn't hurt. Two punks started laughing and joking about her fall, making Alison cry harder.

We had an uneventful trip to Target. I had my second Starbucks, bought six shirts and three dolls for $130, and decided it was time for a break. We went to visit grandpa.

I told my dad that I hadn't had a chance to go shopping for jewelry supplies, so he told me he'd put a movie on for the girls and I could run to the store.

Do you think I would have a calm, focused shopping experience?

This woman with a basket full of beads decided I was her victim.

Crazy Lady: "It's a great time to shop with all these sales!"

My initial thought: PRETEND TO BE DEAF.

Me (afraid Crazy Lady might know sign language): "Oh, I didn't realize they were on sale. Thanks, I guess I come here too often to notice anymore."

BIG MISTAKE. The conversation was started, and it was too late to pull the deaf card. At one point I considered my other options: seizure, cardiac arrest, a really big zit... She kept bringing beads to me, showing me which ones I should buy. She would even yell things from the other side of the wall, and I looked helplessly to the other customers. I acted interested at first, and then I had to bring out "the bitch." I told her that resin beads weren't popular, and I think I crushed her poor, pharmacologically-altered spirit. I finally said I had to go because someone else was watching my kids.

And because I like to throw a little diversity in there (let's see, so far we've got a handicapped girl, teenagers, grannies, people on meds, deaf people, fat people, latchkey kids and pedophile Santas)...

I was quite excited to see one black man working at Target. Yes, one. It was way festive of Target to whip out the "we're diverse" card for Black Friday. Get it? Black Friday? You see, it's funny because it's BLACK FRIDAY and this is IOWA, which has but eight or nine non-whites because WE SUCK.

On the way home tonight, there was an accident on the interstate. I slowed from 75 to the speed limit of 70. A car raced onto the road from an on-ramp and weaved around behind me. The car pulled up like it was going to pass, but it saw the fire trucks ahead and got behind me. After we passed the accident site, I sped back up and the car stayed way back. About a mile before my exit to Podunk, Iowa, the car came blazing up the hill and got so close to my Suburban that I couldn't see even the glow of its headlights. There was a car ahead of me, so I couldn't speed up to make room. I played back every horror movie that involved a crazy person in a car. The car followed me off the highway and weaved back and forth behind me. I pulled into a busy gas station and pretended I was turning around to get back on the highway, and the car drove off. When it was out of sight, I busted ass to get home, pull in the garage and get the door closed. I was so scared I was shaking and called Mike on his cell while I checked out the house.

Now I remember why I wanted to stay home this weekend. We're all stocked up on crazy here.

Oh yeah. Midget.