When you blog, sometimes having kids means having instant material—just add internet. For example, yesterday I was running late to a birthday party and needed to 1) deposit a check into my account and 2) buy a present. Multi-tasking like a Super Mom I went to the local Fred Meyer with a WaMu branch right inside. Only at these nifty little banks can you push a cart of rowdy children up to the teller.
After filling out the deposit slip and drawing attention while we stood in line (“Zack, please sit on your bum,” “Leah don’t tease, Kaleb,” “Kaleb, stand by the cart,” “Zack, don’t pull Leah’s hair…”), we made it to the nice lady with the cash. The transaction was nearly complete when she said, “Don’t you write a column for the River City Weekly?” just as Kaleb pulled two tampons from my purse and, waving them in the air, asked, “What are these?” His tone implied that I must be keeping a personal stash of candy in my purse because how can something with such a shiny, crinkly wrapper not contain sugary goodies? I growled at my son, smiled at the nice lady with the cash, and pushed my cart of rowdy children from the bank (and past the long line of customers waiting, attentively, behind me).
Up until that moment I’m sure the teller wanted my autograph.