I'm pregnant. 32 weeks actually, with my fourth child. I work as a cashier, on weekends only. During the quiet times I like to "people" watch. It seems like I notice so much more pregnant women than I used to, and I find myself trying to guess how far along she is, if she's bigger than me etc. The really interesting times are when I see a pregnant woman with her other children shopping. I find myself observing how big she is and how rotten her kids are! Horrible I know, because there are many times when I've had to drag my little darlings kicking and screaming out of a mall, or wherever.

One time, I took my kids to the store I work at to get some juice and snacks. It was Halloween time and there were three huge rows of costumes. I was pregnant with my son at the time, near to delivery. I explained to both of my daughters that I wouldn't be buying anything that day, and that I would get them costumes tomorrow when I got paid. They spent time looking at costumes anyway and off we went. The next day we went back to the store to pick up the outfits, and what do you know? Yep, the one costume my younger daughter liked was no longer there. She burst into tears (of course) and went tearing down the aisles, screaming "But I wanted to be the pig!" There I was, 9 months pregnant, chasing after my four year old, muttering, but you are a little pig! I look around the corner and I see my manger down on his knees, comforting my daughter, giving me a look. I just couldn't win.

Then I realized, where was my six year old? I had to take my angry younger girl through the store in a search for her older sister, while my boss paged "Attention customers, we have a lost mommy in the store who is looking for her little girl Jessica. She has black hair, bla bla bla..." Well we were reunited. The first thing I did was try to get the heck outta Dodge. We returned to the van, where I unceremoniously dumped them off with dad, who was reclining and listening to a light music radio station.

I went back into the store, where I was greeted with some hostile looks from complete strangers as I tried to find costumes for my two daughters. I finally gave up, knowing full well the kids wouldn't like the ones I chose anyway. I trudged back to the van in defeat, telling hubby if he wanted to try, go for it.

Grumbling, he unbelted the kids, and went in the store. They all came out smiling less than ten minutes later, the girls carrying their shopping bags and dad carrying a tray of hot dogs.

"Well that wasn't so hard." he says. Shut up I was thinking. Well, now that this is all typed out, I guess I shouldn't judge. After all, that was two and a half years ago. I've since learned to leave my 2 year old son at home when I go shopping, and the girls have outgrown their temper tantrum stage, so I should really go easy on the poor shmucks I see now a days, right?

Nah.



Claudia Dawson