Off We Go

I left the house this morning. Before the twins came, leaving the house during the day was no big deal. Abbie and I would leave the house during the day several times each week to pick up Vital Supplies, not-so-Vital Supplies, and of course frozen custard. It was my plan to keep my sanity by experiencing the excitement of the outside world instead of the soul-crushing repetitiveness that comes from being trapped inside the house day after day with a little person whose primary form of communication is screaming backed up by biting.

Now that I have to carry three children simultaneously when I leave the house, the soul-crushing repetitiveness of staying home is how I keep my sanity. I never even try to leave the house with all three children and no assistance unless a doctor’s office is the destination, and even then I try to guilt Ellie into taking off work to help haul children.

I broke with tradition today because I had a couple things I desperately needed to pick up: stamps because a couple health providers are desperate to get our money after they waited four months to send us a bill, and propane because the weather is nice darned if I’m going to waste another optimum grilling day. Normally I’d wait until Ellie came home and buy these things while she was available to watch the twins or at least listen to them nap, but she has a busy week; she’s working nights or is otherwise occupied at night all week until Sunday, which is Easter Sunday, and no way can I accomplish anything on Easter Sunday. I knew I could find both of my Ultra Vital Supplies with two miles of home, so I sucked it up, waited for the twins’ naptime, packed up the kids, and drove off without back up.

The first stop was the grocery store for stamps. I pulled into a parking space, turned off the engine but left the keys in the ignition to keep the CD playing, pulled out the double stroller, plopped Ian in his spot, plopped Tory in his spot, watched a car pull into the space next to me while praying that he didn’t hit the door I never bothered to close, retrieved my car keys, unbuckled Abbie, confirmed for a stranger that yes those are twins, and traversed the parking lot carrying Abbie in one hand and pushing the stroller with the other. The clerk at the service desk apparently didn’t have enough to do as he spent much time fawning over the twins before calling over three cashiers who also didn’t have enough to do to help him fawn. I answered a couple standard twin questions and quickly demanded stamps before he could utter another one. I hate being rude, but I had less than an hour before the twins woke up hungry, and it takes me half-an-hour to do simple tasks like go to the bathroom these days let alone make an entire additional stop.

With stamps in hand, I reversed the process to reload the car, and drove to the nearest gas station that sold propane. Inside I encountered another cashier who also liked to ask questions and call over her coworkers, but her only coworker was a middle-aged guy who was more interested in smoking than looking at babies. He stayed on the other end of the store pretending not to hear, which was a good arrangement for both of us.

I loaded the propane container into my trunk and checked my watch; I still had plenty of time before the twins’ scheduled feeding. As long as I was at a gas station, I filled up my car with about 15 bucks worth of gas, which was selling for $20.10 this morning. Now that I had acquired everything I set out to buy and more, we went home. Not too soon either because the twins were awake early. I blame the nosy cashiers.