Hallmark loves us.

There are three kinds of people in this world:

1.)  Those who buy Hallmark cards religiously

2.)  Those who think about it, but don't make the time, so they just don't do it, but say they thought about it.

3.)  Those who would rather die than go into a Hallmark.  And cards, "What? Why? What for?"

 

If you know this Mommy, you know which number I fall under already, so I don't even need to bring it up, but I'm going to anyway.  Today, Bailey and I made our seasonal trip to Hallmark.  I should dread these trips more than I do.  Something in me must block out how much anxiety exists at times, otherwise, I'm not sure I'd ever return.  It's like that ability they claim exists in women, which makes it possible for them to have children after their first.  Luckily, it didn't work its magic during that time for me, it saved it for trips to Hallmark instead.  So luckily for the rest of you, you occasionally get mail from us because of this fateful ability.

 

Sometimes, it works out just right that Bailey is napping during this shopping expedition.  The Hallmark ladies usually make comments about her and how sweet she is and we all snicker about her snoring.  Then she wakes up right towards the end, takes a couple cards out of my hands, points out the covers, we approach the cashier's counter, she scans the counter looking at the unnecessary chocolate, I tell her we're not there for that, we pay, we tell our goodbyes, we leave.  Well, that is only sometimes.

 

Today was not a sometimes day.  She was wide awake and quite uninterested in looking at cards.  Who can blame her?  I mean, I like reading the cards looking for the perfect one for people in our lives, but even I have to admit, that if you don't want to be there, it isn't any fun.  There are breakables (which you're not supposed to touch), it's quiet, it's full ofpastels, and it's just not very stimulating.  For a child, or someone who thrives off of stimulation, this is one of the worst possible stores to enter, aside from maybe the Gap or Pottery Barn. 

So a few cards got redistributed into the wrong places (which I tried my best to correct), she wanted to run around, which I did my best to put to a halt, and I found myself making more of the situation than what was actually happening (big surprise).  I became the parent who gets caught up in the humiliation instead of relating to her child.  The ladies who work there tried to entertain her, because they saw what was happening.  They saw I was letting my frustration get the better of me.  I was spending more time trying to train her like a dog, and less time buying their cards.

But don't you worry, we indeed bought cards.  It wasn't as severe as it felt then, and I thank my lucky stars I only have her, although she feels like seven children at times.  So, for those of you that fit into category 2, think about the thousands of mothers out there who go through this and still manage to send out their cards because they love you more than their sanity, and maybe next time, you might have more time and patience than you thought you had.  As for you 3s, I occasionally envy you.