Friday evening, I had to make a quick swing by the grocery store. I had PB and I only needed a few things at the store, so I didn’t take my bag of tricks in with me (aka, my endless bag full of toys and snacks to keep my child from throwing a colossal tantrum in a public place). I plopped PB in the buggy, crammed my purse beside him, and quickly went about my business.
Let me stop here and first explain my purse situation. I have a messy, unorganized purse. It’s a slouchy bag, so everything just gets thrown in the mix. I do have a small ’emergency’ pouch that I keep in my purse. It houses ’emergency’ items, like tampons, pads, floss, mascara, and deodorant. Because, you know, if you’re ever in an emergency, you want to make sure your teeth are picked, your eyes are lookin’ good, and your pits smell fresh.
The emergency pouch stays zipped and is usually at the bottom of my purse. On Friday, however, this was not the case. Somehow, over the course of my day, I carelessly left the emergency pouch open either (1) after I made a desperate run for the deodorant or (2) was looking for my cell phone. I’ll stick with number 2 to save myself from any embarrassment. Anyway, the contents of the emergency pouch had spilled out and into the foreign, messy land of my purse. I did not know this as I was wheeling my kid around the grocery store.
PB started getting a little fussy as soon as we walked in the door. I could tell he wanted to get down and walk, but I only needed to get a few things and needed to make this a quick trip, so I opened my purse (which was tucked beside him) and got out my keys. He loves to play with keys.
I had a new recipe to try this weekend and the ingredients forced me to shop outside of my usual grocery store comfort zone. I was looking for yeast. I’ve never bought yeast before. After trolling the aisles looking for yeast, I stumbled on it. PB was getting more unsettled, so I gave him a compact brush from my purse.
Unbeknownst to me, there were 723 different varieties of yeast. I had no clue what I needed, so I pulled the buggy close to me and starting reading the back of the labels. At this point, I saw PB picking at my purse, but thought nothing of it.
I must have read 5 or 6 different labels when I looked back at my son.
Oh.
my.
gosh.
My son was chewing on an unwrapped plastic tampon.
Someone.
save.
me.
Right in the middle of the flour aisle on a busy, Friday afternoon, my son was chewing on the round end of a plastic tampon. Did this just happen to me?
I’m convinced the wrapper must have come off in my purse. I don’t think he could have unwrapped it himself and started chewing on it so fast. I don’t know if anyone saw us. I’m sure they did. How could they not? The store was crowded. I would have certainly noticed if a kid was chewing on a tampon in the middle of a grocery store. I mean, what kind of mom would let a kid do something like that?
I started sweating. I grabbed the tampon and threw it back in my purse.
I told PB that he shouldn’t chew on tampons.
He laughed. He’s a thug.
And that, my friends, was my finest hour of motherhood to date.
Have a blessed Monday 🙂
