PC rich, puke-free, and perusing the TAR-zhay

Ahhhhhh!

D'you hear that? That's the sound of someone back at her desk.

Yep, my new computer has arrived - thanks to Dad (Thank you, Daddy!) - and has been feverishly set up, plugged in, turned on, had various bits of software installed, etc.

Bliss!

Now to go about retrieving my bookmarks, logging back into all my sites, and remembering my passwords ... ugh.

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The family is finally well. The children suffered through about 5 days of vomiting and diarrhoea. Every sheet and towel in the house got washed three times and I made about a gallon of home-made 'pedialyte' (note to self: never make it with red kool-aid!). I also got the stomach bug; and let me tell you (what you mommies already know) that changing manky sheets when you yourself are about to hurl is a tough one.

At some point early on I caught my obligatory upper-respiratory crud (my resistance is at zero what with being preggers and having the other bug) and Bulk picked that one up as well. Fortunately he got over the yarks pretty quickly (he was the first to exhibit symptoms - all over his carseat) but he just stopped snotting a few days ago.

And the coup de grace? Evil Genius Husband snagged the head cold just in time to return to work. Poor thing spent the latter half of his holiday stripping nasty sheets and cleaning puke off himself only to get a stupid cold. *very unhappy face*

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Regarding my last post and my decision (which still stands), I have not figured out how to address the person at whose house we are exposed to the other child. I emailed the other two moms and received no response. I can only assume that they disapprove of my decision (although they are both v. busy professionals, as well as moms to young kids, so they may just have not had time).

At any rate, I'm a 'do-er' when it comes to stuff like this. I like to be right up front and lay my cards on the table. I don't have anything to hide and I like to just get stuff over with; hash it out; be done with it.

I'll keep you updated. (BTW, thank you all for your supporting comments. They really helped!)

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So I was at the Target yesterday.

I hate Target. The whole Wal-Mart/Target war amuses me no end but I'm a willing participant (I know folks who wouldn't be caught dead in a Wal Mart because only white trash and Mexicans shop there *gasp* and I hate Target because it's a pretentious pain in the arse. I hate their stuff, the sales staff and other shoppers act like they're better than you (it ain't Saks, people), and their return policy blows. See? Isn't that fun? *snicker*)

So, anyway, I've only been in Target three times and it was to quickly use a gift card or return an item purchased there.*

Well, we disembarked the HMS Behemoth amidst a parking lot full of Lexuses (Lexi?) and Beemers and not a few snooty little glances from what seemed like a stampede of pregnant suburbanites and suburbanites with small children. Does the Target spray their customers with some alien-derived fertility formula? It was bizarre. (And what's up with the new maternity clothes fitting like fitness gear? I don't expect you to wear a tent but find something flattering, honey. Wearing clothes that look two sizes too small when you're not pregnant is stupid and ugly. When you're pregnant it's grotesque. I feel like the female form is a beautiful thing - especially when pregnant - but a white t-shirt so tight that I can make out the edge of your areolae and see your stretch-marks through it is NOT CUTE. I don't care if you do drive a 2007 Lincoln Navigator and your dog costs more than my car did!)

So, we're walking as quickly as my knee will allow through the store (and the herds of pregnant bellies/small kids) and I see children running, children crying, children yelling and folks are staring at us (a vast, very pregnant, cross-looking woman, who is not wearing a form-fitting Old Navy maternity shirt, and has four children? Do you blame them? The sky is falling!) when we encounter this:

The mother is about my age (40-ish), the father is dressed in that carefully calculated yuppie style (faded Lands End canvas hat, regular looking t-shirt that probably cost $60 [organic cotton, natch!], those bizarre knee-length shorts that suburban men love that look like cut-off golf pants - they're seersucker, loudly checked, and cut like dress pants [like Bermuda Shorts only uglier???], and deck shoes.) and their child (a girl of about 3-4) is lying on the floor screaming.

Mom: "Taylor, I know you're frustrated about going (didn't catch the middle bit), but Grandma said she would (something)"
Dad: "Taylor, I'll get you that Dora (something) ... let mommy and daddy finish shopping ..."
Mom: (glancing down the aisle in the other direction) "Sweetie, we're in the way of other babies ..."

Now, please bear in mind that my children are behaving thus: (aside from gaping in wonder at the show) Bitty and Bulk are sitting silently in the cart, Boy and the HCTD are walking quietly next to the cart.

Mom: (looking my way and speaking in a LOUD, shocked-sounding voice) "LOTS of babies! Tim, move out of the way!"

Uhm. We were taking up less than half the aisle. Her child was lying in the middle of the floor. Tim, by the way, was not in anyone's way. WTF?

I'll chalk this behaviour up to her being embarrassed (I'd have been mortified, myself) although she didn't seem embarrassed. She seemed pretty damned belligerent. As if I was interrupting her careful (and clearly effective *snort*) psychological reasoning with her child. Heck, if she'd just had, oh, say, another half hour unimpaired, she probably could have calmed Taylor down (or daddy's bribe would've worked.)

What would've been Blue's method, you ask? I'd've said this: "Get your arse off the floor and calm down or we're leaving right now, young lady. Let's go."

Now, see? Target clientele are clearly loads better than us Wal-Mart people!


*Please don't construe this as lack of gratefulness for the gift/gift card. I am very appreciative - a gift is a gift!. I just don't shop at Target