I thought it would be a good idea to take the kids into Brainerd today.
Actually, they did really well...I just get super anxious when I'm in public and they're not exactly perfect angels. (As if they ever will be...)
It started off interestingly enough though. I have a monkey backpack with a long tail for Kale, so yes, it's basically a leash, but it keeps him within arms reach and from running into traffic. So we get to our destination, and I'm pushing Addison in the stroller (she's yelling, by the way, and I'm just trying to get inside to calm her), and Kale's walking at Kale Pace through the parking lot. He trips and falls, isn't phased by it, and as I pick him up, this old lady walking behind us yells at me, "He's not a dog!!!!!!!!!!!" People turn and look, and I don't know whether to cry or snap back at her. So I ignore her and keep going, desperately ignoring the mumbling comments of Old Mother Grouch.
Then, thankfully, a lady in a van stops, rolls down the window and says, "Ma'am! That is the cutest thing I've ever seen!!! I didn't know they make those! It sure would've come in handy for me!" I smiled, thanked her, and continued walking. Once inside, I wanted to take the monkey off Kale's back just so people wouldn't judge me...then I realized that they can't judge me. Only God can. So I keep the monkey on. Oh, and Kale enjoys his monkey, by the way. (He loves playing with it at home, running to the end of the leash and falling down, giggling, and doing it again.)
The kids sleep on the way back to our little town and we go visit Daddy at work, where both Kale and Addison are happy to delight the ladies John works with. They coo with Addison (who, although is trying her hardest grunting and pushing to poop when not being talked to, is happily smiling and cooing back) and give Kale a bright yellow balloon (which serves as a little booey for me, knowing where he is at all times even when I can't see his little head bobbing around.)
Finally, we walk over to the post office to send some pictures to Great Grandma Ruth and pick up a package waiting there for us, and everyone is kind and courteous, opening doors for us and smiling, greeting, talking to the kids. We get home and I'm able to get the kids down for a nap and eat a quick lunch, when I realize how much I love my life. I miss being closer in driving distance to my family, but this is nice. I have a wonderful, faithful husband who adores me, two healthy, happy kids who are also amazing sleepers, a decent home (despite the Slash wannabe living below us), kind townspeople, and I'm getting better at cooking! (Feta stuffed chicken for supper, anyone???) So yeah, I love my life.
Even when yelled at by strangers.