Saturday night we loaded up the family and went out for ice cream. As we approached the ice cream shop, me crammed into my REAL jeans and a nursing camisol, pushing a stroller loaded with two kids, we were forced to weave our way through a crowd of about twenty teenagers dressed up for a Homecoming dance (AND THEIR PARENTAL CHAPERONES hahaha). Another little family was coming the other direction and shot me a knowing and similarly exasperated smile as they navigated their Bob Revolution through the cloud of hormones. When did teenagers get so loud and shrill?
Anyway, we had a great time. Ryan and I shared our ice cream with Charlie (Ryan had pumpkin and I had Mexican vanilla with sprinkles) who gleefully shrieked "Ice cream! Ice cream! Ice cream! Ice cream!" as we left the restaraunt and wove our way back through the teenagers to a bench outside.
Wesley had fun too.
Pay no attention to the half painted toenails. I have no excuse.
After ice cream, we went into a bookstore to change Charlie's diaper. Ryan took both boys into the men's room and I stood nearby reading a book I grabbed randomly off the shelf. Ryan emerged from the bathroom nearly twenty minutes later holding Wesley over his shoulder with one hand and pushing the stroller with the other. Wesley was MAD and Charlie was strapped into the stroller with Wesley's blanket over his lap. Poor kid had a HUGE blowout.
"They both pooped," Ryan said in an unamused deadpan "Charlie's pants are in the bag. He's too big to not wear pants."
As we left the store Charlie chanted "Wesley's turn! Wesley's turn! Wesley's turn!" (for a diaper change, presumably), Wesley cried, and I laughed so hard I cried. The irony was not lost on me-- as we passed the teenagers again I wanted to say "This will be YOU in fifteen years! Two kids, one screaming, one pantsless... poop covered pants in the diaper bag. Mwahahahaha! Was anyone planning on having SEX tonight?!"
Then as we were leaving the parking lot I had to stop short to avoid a pedestrian and my car stalled. I was laughing nearly to the point of choking by this point by this point because really, could our life be more of a sitcom? Ryan got out to push it into a parking spot but then decided we should try to push start it instead. He rolled it down the aisle of the parking lot yelling "Pop the clutch! Pop the clutch! I can't push it any faster!"
It reminded me of a childhood memory of my mom trying to start our 70's era Ford station wagon one snowy day and her encouraging us to help by yelling "COME ON BETTY!!!"
The car started and we treated ourselves to a ride on the toll road on the way home (mostly to avoid stopping at a light and having the car stall again).
The evening is one of my favorite memories of being a family of four so far.