A "not so Hallmark" moment...

My first clue should've been the time of day.

I'll start at the beginning, just for grins.
Having already packed our picnic lunch for the park...when the rain started and canceled our playdate, I decided to load up the boys anyway, and let fate be our guide. Well, so to speak. What I was really thinking, as I drove aimlessly out of the EGR confines, was "where the F can I take these guys and a picninc lunch in the rain?"

Using my brain, I chose the mother of all bad places to take your kids.
That's right, friends: the mall.

The beginning of our adventure at Woodland was actually quite fun. Benjamin walked excitedly around in his typical fashion--trots ahead and announces the things he sees, looks back to see how far back I am, doubles back....and then trots ahead once more. Jonathan leans forward in the stroller and "conducts" the imaginary orchestra in his head...all the while with his face scrunched up in that "I smell something yucky" expression, and his big 'ol gap between his two front teeth proudly displayed.
We parked ourselves at the food court and had a nice lunch...the other moms around us kinda gave me an "oh, brotha" face when they saw my paper plates, napkins, grapes, cheese, yogurt, sandwiches....as though I was one of those moms.
Bitches, please.
The only reason my kids aren't horking down Sabarro pizza like yours is because I was hellbent on eating the damn lunch I packed this morning.

But I digress.

So after lunch (ok, yes, I was a wee bit proud that they ate so healthily) we headed back toward the doors where we came in...I even managed to distract Benjamin enough so as to avoid a B-line for the "breakfast food". Some moms really love this feature in the mall.
Not me. All I see are kids with pink eye.

And this is when it happens...this is not, I warn you, an incredibly exciting tidbit I'm about to share...rather, it is yet another example of how moms like me feel when out and about during the day.
We walk by the Hallmark store, as we have many times in the past, and Benjamin says "Mommy,...Thomas???" They have a display of Thomas greeting cards that play music right in the front of the store, so we start to go in...and immediately I have my we're in a store now where civilized people are trying to shop peacefully armour on. I show Benjamin the card, he giggles, even squeels a little (but in an adorable way) and we successfully put the card back on the shelf.
It's at this moment that the clerk behind the counter (who will from now on be referred to as grumpy bitch) leans over the counter to ask Benjamin how old he is, what his name is, blah...blah...the usual. All goes well, and she is under the impression that he is just a very polite, adorable little guy.
Ha.
Problem is, anyone with half a brain knows that all children have their polite and adorable moments, but not one of them is this way all the time. Unfortunately, this lady turns out to be from Pluto. You know, where kids are perfect.

It doesn't take me long to realize what kind of danger we're in for.....when I see the display or Christmas ornaments along the middle aisle of the store. I believe they are called "Hallmark Keepsake Collection" ornaments.
Well, friends...they may not be worth keeping or collecting, but we came home with one.

Benjamin immediately starts getting hot under the collar when he sees these things. Why, you ask? I'll tell you why.
They have cars.
That's right--car ornaments.

MaryMotherOfJoseph...if I'd any effing idea these were on display there today, we never would've even made it across the threshold into the store.
Unfortunately, what started out to be somewhat of a victory quickly became less of one.
Whenever Benjamin sees cars he goes ape. And 9 times out of 10 I wind up buying him one. Yes, that's right. I do it. Always said I'd never be that mom, but in situations like these, when the wrath of the silver-topped-Hallmark-ladies is breathing down my neck...it's peace at all costs.
So I'm about to convince Benjamin that the cars will be there for a very long time (little does he know how true that is...seriously, who buys this crap?), and that we can come back with Nana and pick one out "tomorrow". He starts repeating what I'm saying in a RainMan-esque sort of mantra, and we slowly start to walk away from the display.
It's then that he sees the motorcycle ornament, dangling from the display, as if to say "Ahh, Benjamin, you must have me!" He reaches for it...and juuuust as I start to expain how it's a display item, and he can't hold it because it's attached to the wall...he proves me wrong and yanks it down.
Now, it's important here that I tell you that the only thing that broke was the metal attachment that hooks the ornament to the wall. The motorcycle itself was still in tact.
Didn't matter, though, as I am quite emphatic when it comes to how my kids treat the property of others, things that "don't belong to us", etc...even though Benjamin had no clue he was going to break it and was basically innocent (he's 2 for pete's sake), there was a principle to be taught.
So I kneel down and show him, calmly, what happened when he pulled on it too hard.
He looks at me and says "Benjin break...no mo motocycle."
I tell him it's ok, but that we're going to go tell the lady what happened. While I'm walking up there I start to get nervous, because I just have a sinking feeling about how she's going to react. So, in my haste, I grab an unopened box of one of the motorcycles off the shelf. I decide I'm going to offer to buy one.
We wait our turn, and I keep the boys happy with graham crackers. For some reason, there's a line. Fuck.

We get up to the counter, and the same lady that spoke ever so sweetly to Benjamin when we first walked in is going to be waiting on us.
Hooray. Relief. He's already in with her.
Right?

Not right.

We approach her register and I open up my hand to show her the ornament---still in tact, but with a broken hook on the back. While I show it to her, I say the following: "M'amm, I am so sorry, but he tried to grab this off the wall...and, well...anyway, I'm just sorry. I'd like to offer to pay for one if that would help."
Now, I know plenty of gals in my position who might've just thrown the broken ornament on the counter on the way out and said "Sorry, shit happens" as they careen their stroller out of the store, completely harried and yelling at their kids at the same time. Or even worse, some might even just leave the broken ornament on the shelf with all of the other pieces of shit Hallmark's trying to sell...
But not me.
No sirree.
I'm with these kids 24/7 and miss no opportunity to teach them how to be respectful in such situations. That's right, I'm in it to win it.

Please. This bitch wasn't interested.
She looks at me, and says nothing. Only evidence at all that she actually heard me is the souring of her expression. She twists her pursed lips into a knot and starts to ring up the ornament. Benjamin, God bless him, actually looks up at her and says "Mommy, lady sad."

Fuu-hhuck.
That was funny.

I haven't gotten to the point yet where I'm ticked...I just feel like a cliche. The mom with the misbehaving little boy. So I smile and say, again..."Sorry bout this. Kinda happened in a flash and I couldn't pry his little paw off of it in time..."
I kneel down and ask Benjamin if he can say "sorry" to the nice lady for accidentally breaking the toy.
Now, I'm no dummy. I realize that he has no clue what I'm talking about...but it's the principle of the thing and I want her to know that we're taking responsibility for it. One day all too soon he's going to be aware of what's going on, and that's why I'm going through all of this.
He says, in a voice so sweet you want to throw your hand to your forehead, "sorry, nice lay-dee".
She looks down at him...twists her tight little knot of a mouth from one side to the other, and says "Well, young man...if you'd only asked me, like a good boy, to see the motorcycle, I would have taken it down for you and let you hold it, instead of having it break."

This is when my face loses color and I say, as I scribble my name on the debit card receipt for something I didn't even fucking want to pay for, "Well, m'aam...he is two after all."
And I grab the bag, shove it in the bottom of the stroller, break out a few more graham crackers and let the crumbs fall on the floor, hand them to the boys...and leave the store.

The whole way out of the mall, Benjamin keeps saying "Lay-dee saaaad...she saaad."
To this, I say, "That's right, Benjamin, she was sad. But you did a very nice thing by saying 'sorry' about the ornament. It's not your fault she was an effing bitch."
In case you're wondering, I did the "spelling out" of the naughty words as I said them, but still managed to get satisfaction out of using them, anyway.

I mean, c'mon, people. Why is it that we moms have to feel like such pariahs in stores like these? Must we only shop in grocery stores, where they have carts the size of houses--complete with entire Disney World theme parks inside for kids to play in--that keep them "contained" while we comb the aisles?

I honestly was so miffed by this jellyfish moment* that I almost came home and wrote a letter to the store manager.

Guess that makes you the store manager.


*jellyfish moment: a moment when you think you're interacting with someone/something very sweet and lovely, and then he/she/it lashes out and stings the ever-loving-shit out of you