Wednesday, December 20, 2017

Post Office + Potty Break

David's work schedule and Christmas break is a little different this year, and doesn't give us much time for traveling. Usually, over the break, we manage to visit my parents and my in-laws, but this year David just doesn't have enough days to make the long drive to Kansas. This is a bummer because we don't get there very often as it is, and my kiddos are crazy about their Kansas cousins. It also means that I found myself at the post office today, packing up gifts to mail to them.

The post office is very close to the library, so I waited until I'd picked up the girls from school so that we could do both stops at the same time. (Perhaps not the best plan, in retrospect.)

I'd picked up a priority mail box previously, but it turned out to be too small, so I planned to size up at the post office. Of course, the size I'd selected before was self-sealing and this one at the post office wasn't, and of course I hadn't brought any tape.

So then I had to buy a $3 roll of tape at the post office, and while I was grabbing it, Zuzu was looking at a Minnie Mouse pad of paper from a display. Then a post office employee closed up part of the post office by sliding a locking partition in place, and that note pad was then locked out of its display case, so I had to awkwardly return it by sliding it under the locked plastic paneling that had been slid in front of the display.

The employee then told Zuzu she should ask Santa for the Minnie Mouse notepad, and Zuzu launched into a long explanation of how she'd already seen Santa and she forgot to ask him for that because she was asking for Shimmer and Shine toys.

I was trying to make sure the girls weren't underfoot, or trapping an unsuspecting stranger in a conversation about cartoon genies, plus I was digging out addresses and trying to determine the most cost-efficient packaging for mailing gifts to cousins in Kansas and cousins in California. Then I realized I hadn't grabbed a line number, so I pulled one so that we could actually mail the packages and pay for the tape I'd already used, and went back to writing out the mailing labels when Coco tugged on my shirt.

"Mama, I haf to go potty."

The post office closed in fifteen minutes. The line was to the door. But when a three year old has to pee, she can't hold it forever. I was number 4. They were on number 95 when we left.

So we booked it from the post office to the Starbucks a few doors down. I essentially shop-lifted the packing tape because I hadn't paid for it yet, and I was balancing it on top of the two boxes as we ran down the sidewalk, plus Coco had a book, Zuzu had a doll, and they were both carrying coloring pages that a post office worker had given them. We literally ran into Starbucks, I made them put their toys on the table, and then we sprinted for the bathrooms. Coco peed, I balanced the boxes on the baby changing station while I helped her wash her hands, and then we sprinted back to the post office without making a Starbucks purchase because there was no time for that and we are super classy.

We burst through the door just as they called number 3.

(I like to think this small moment of good fortune helps to counter balance the horrible moment I had when a girl ran a stop sign in a parking lot and I had to slam on my brakes even though I was the "through traffic [that] does not stop" and I honked softly and pointed at the stop sign to point out that she was running a stop sign and being a danger to everyone in the crowded parking lot and she screamed the eff word at me through her window even though SHE WAS TOTALLY AT FAULT and I honked VERY GENTLY so as to not be a dick and truly to keep her from driving into oncoming traffic.)

I paid for postage and packing tape and then we spent a nice hour at the library looking at books about Hanukkah, Barbie, and Greek mythology.

Now the packages are sent. Gifts are wrapped. Stockings are hung. Tree is lit. Wine is poured. Children are nestled all snug in their beds. Dog is snoring on the couch. Christmas is nearly here.

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