do I look like a meth addict to you?

My first clue should have been the runny nose my tiny toddler sported all weekend long. He wasn't acting sick, which is kind of hard to tell with him. After all, there is no rhyme or reason to his eating patterns. His normal mood fluctuates between sweetness and cranky, so nothing new there. He is often a surly little man who stands at the fridge simultaneously screaming for food and refusing to eat anything offered. So when his ick travelled to my husband, I knew it was going to be a long week. I said goodbye to my planned dinners, my zone cleaning and a portion of my sanity. I'll see y'all next week.

When I picked my big four and a half year old up from preschool Monday evening his teachers told me that he had been telling them that he felt like an old man. Hmmm, there's a new one. As we walk out to the car, my older son hits his  point home by pantomiming walking like a old man. The tiny toddler, who mimics every move his older brother makes, also began walking like an octogenarian. As funny as it was, I still had no idea why  we were walking like grandpas to the car. Once we were all buckled in the answer became clear. The youngest took his shoe off and threw it at the oldest, a normal event in our car, sadly, and the oldest burst into tears. Not a normal reaction. The big four and a half year old was sick.

By the time we got home the toddler had both shoes and socks off, his arms out of the seat belt straps and was working on taking off his jacket. The other one was still crying. And the husband was home. Sick. Great. Just great.

I settle my husband and son each on their own sofas, grab the two year old and head out to CVS for medicine for everyone. Now, I didn't want to take the little one on this trip, but he wouldn't leave his older brother alone and I feared there would be a crime scene when I returned. And no one wants to drive down their street and see the crime lab truck in their driveway. So the two year old came with me.

Monday is a stay at home with the two year old day so I had already had a long and tiring fulfilling day at home with my little man. He was hungry, we were both a mess. He had some mysterious red stains on his gray sweat pants and his nose had developed that crust that kids get when their noses run all day long. He had peanut butter in his hair. I had my glasses on, which I could barely see through from all the smudges and tiny fingerprints, battle wounds from them being yanked off my face at least 500 times earlier in the day. I was wearing my gray yoga pants and a back sleeveless polo shirt, which normally is an OK look but not when covered in peanut butter, coffee, and something sticky. Something really sticky. My hair was dirty and frizzy. My straightening iron lost the fight with the electrical outlet converter in Russia and I have yet to replace it, so even on a good day my hair is a mess. This was not a good day. (As a side note I would like to urge all of you out there to shower when you can. Don't put it off. If you wait until later in the day because you think you're not going anywhere, you don't need to look good then you will end up in a drug store attempting to convince a pharmacist that you are not a meth addict. But I'm getting ahead of myself.)

So I stuff the screaming toddler into the cart at CVS because I know if he is walking he will pull down entire displays and I will wind up coming home with a bag of tissues and chiclets. I have to navigate the aisles very slowly and right down the center because the wing span of my little guy is wider than you'd think for someone so small. I find the children's Tylenol and the honey and am thinking, great, I am almost ready to go and we have not created a scene. Another shining mommy moment!

Then I realize I can't find the grown up cold medicine. I finally find where it should be and there is only a paper card in the spot where the medicine usually sits. It takes me a minute to realize that they are not just out of this medicine- they have moved it to behind the counter and I have to ask for it. So I push my cart, now full of children's Tylenol and screaming baby, and proceed to wait in line at the pharmacy counter.

We play 100 rounds of "look up, there's a light!". We repeat every word my little guy can say, twice. We play "drop the tennis shoe and watch Mommy pick it up" about 1,000 times. We pretty much annoy everyone around us. But I don't feel too bad about it, because, to be honest, they were all annoying me as well. Finally, our turn!

"Why do you want to purchase this medicine?" uh, my husband is sick.
baby screams loudly.

"Why isn't he purchasing it for himself? see my previous answer.
baby screams loudly, grabs shoe from back of cart and throws it at teenager in line behind us.

"Why this particular brand/type? I like the shiny red packaging.
baby figures out he can makes lots of clanking noise by leaning forward in cart seat, lifting bottom off seat and plopping back down. Repeats this as he screams "no no no".

"Do you know this medicine has been used to make illegal drugs?" do I look like I make illegal drugs in my basement? I look at my attire and my misbehaving toddler. wait, don't answer that.

Then the pharmacy guy needs my driver's license, which is in the car. Oh. My. God. People. I just want to get the drugs and go home. Yeah, I don't sound like an addict at all. I drag the cart to the front of the store, haul the baby out, run outside in the rain, get my license, go back in, stuff now screaming baby back into cart (he thought he was free, poor thing), and arrive back at the pharmacy desk out of breath, wet, and a little strung out. And I get the drugs. score.

Then we repeat the whole waiting in line scene again at the front while we try to check out. What a nightmare. Note to CVS - I realize I may, occasionally, look like one, but I am not a drug addict. Seriously. I would have so much more energy...