Dry Run.
We decided if we EVER want to leave the house oh, in the next year or so, we better go ahead and give it a dry run.
During a feed.
Yes, we are insane, thank you for asking.
We decided to go to Tr@der Joes, because who isn't happy there? Little shopping carts for little girls to push, and Mommy just quivers with excitement at all the organic stuff.
I don't get out much obviously.
We get on the road and she starts fussing.
Daddy: "I think she's in pain."
Mommy: "No, I am pretty sure she doesn't like the tv show we put on. She likes choices"
She is a girl after all. HA!
More fussing.
Since we aren't sure what's causing the crying, we make a detour to my second favorite place which is much closer to home.
T@rget, here we come.
After a ridiculously LONG TIME untangling her from her tubing, and getting her situated in the stroller (while her 3 sweet sisters patiently wait) we triumphantly enter T@rget.
Except she's really crying now.
Daddy is right..I think she's in pain.
Getting a little frantic we ramp into overdrive, head to the medicine aisle, grab motrin, run to the pharmacy, ask for a syringe, and then there, right in an aisle of T@rget like it's the most normal thing in the world, we stop her feed and inject motrin right into her tummy and restart the feed.
Let me just say, "WE ROCK."
Feeling oh-so-proud of narrowly avoiding a Celia meltdown and successfully getting her pain until control IN THE AISLE, westrut stroll through the store with purpose.
WE CAN SO DO THIS.
Except she won't stop crying.
So.....
We check all the leads,
we check to make sure all the clamps are open,
we check the pump to make sure it's running,
we check for kinks in the line,
we check for a fever,
we check her abdomen for bloating,
and then.....
I notice she is kicking her legs frantically.
So I pull off her boot to see if I left a tag on it or something.
And she smiles at me as if to say, " FINALLY!!! You got that god-forsaken thing off my foot!!!"
She successfully kicks off the other boot and then squeals with sheer delight at her accomplishment.
And spends the rest of her hour-long feed strolling around T@rget without a care in the world, or shoes on her feet, happy as a lark.
Yeah.
We gave our daughter motrin because she hates her new boots.
Ahem.
Not one of our finer parenting moments that's for sure.
During a feed.
Yes, we are insane, thank you for asking.
We decided to go to Tr@der Joes, because who isn't happy there? Little shopping carts for little girls to push, and Mommy just quivers with excitement at all the organic stuff.
I don't get out much obviously.
We get on the road and she starts fussing.
Daddy: "I think she's in pain."
Mommy: "No, I am pretty sure she doesn't like the tv show we put on. She likes choices"
She is a girl after all. HA!
More fussing.
Since we aren't sure what's causing the crying, we make a detour to my second favorite place which is much closer to home.
T@rget, here we come.
After a ridiculously LONG TIME untangling her from her tubing, and getting her situated in the stroller (while her 3 sweet sisters patiently wait) we triumphantly enter T@rget.
Except she's really crying now.
Daddy is right..I think she's in pain.
Getting a little frantic we ramp into overdrive, head to the medicine aisle, grab motrin, run to the pharmacy, ask for a syringe, and then there, right in an aisle of T@rget like it's the most normal thing in the world, we stop her feed and inject motrin right into her tummy and restart the feed.
Let me just say, "WE ROCK."
Feeling oh-so-proud of narrowly avoiding a Celia meltdown and successfully getting her pain until control IN THE AISLE, we
WE CAN SO DO THIS.
Except she won't stop crying.
So.....
We check all the leads,
we check to make sure all the clamps are open,
we check the pump to make sure it's running,
we check for kinks in the line,
we check for a fever,
we check her abdomen for bloating,
and then.....
I notice she is kicking her legs frantically.
So I pull off her boot to see if I left a tag on it or something.
And she smiles at me as if to say, " FINALLY!!! You got that god-forsaken thing off my foot!!!"
She successfully kicks off the other boot and then squeals with sheer delight at her accomplishment.
And spends the rest of her hour-long feed strolling around T@rget without a care in the world, or shoes on her feet, happy as a lark.
Yeah.
We gave our daughter motrin because she hates her new boots.
Ahem.
Not one of our finer parenting moments that's for sure.
Well, think of it this way. Better to give her Motrin and then discover the boots need removal, then to remove the boots and not give the Motrin she needed :)
ReplyDeleteAnd, btw, you are totally brave to try Target. I was in there, by myself, for about 20 minutes Friday, and between the awful music and the sheer amount of people, I about lost. my. mind.
Not that TJ was much better, but at least there I got to sample the pear/apple cider...yum.
Funny! At least it was a successful trip after the removal of the boots! Way to go, Claxtons - YOU ALL DO ROCK!
ReplyDeleteHA!! So enjoyed this post and of course checking in on your beautiful family. Keep on keeping on. A little Morin must be good for the soul too ;)
ReplyDeleteBwahahahahahha! Sounds like you have a fickle female with a determined taste in shoes! :)
ReplyDeleteLove you guys... pray for you often... and I agree... YOU ALL ROCK!
deanna <3
What can I say - she is a dyed in the wool "bare foot Georgia girl". She is always happier with her feet free, just like Gran'ma. You go girl!!!!
ReplyDeleteYou guys are amazing! And your girls are, too! =)
ReplyDeleteThe motrin/boots is just tooooo funny! Yep, gotta love those not-so-mother-of-the-year moments, don't you?
ReplyDeleteI'm into boot stories right now as I try to find a pair that will work for my daughter's unique feet and lower legs. I'm not sure if there's pair out there that will work, but I'm trying since they'll keep her little feet warm this winter.