Holy. Smokes. I think I just earned the biggest gift ever from Santa Claus. We are talking at least a year of free massages at the nicest spa in Birmingham kind of big gift. It is no longer a question whether or not Peyton will be the death of me; it is now a fact. She is going to kill me.
After suffering from a massive migraine for the past eleven days, I finally decided to pack up the kids and head to the nearest doc-in-a-box. Side note - do you know what DOESN'T help a migraine? A toddler suffering from the terrible twos and a colicky three month old. Just a little FYI. I should have known to give up on the doctors when we pulled into the parking lot and there was one spot left. Determined to get some relief, we went inside, signed in, and sat in the corner farthest away from everyone else. Things started out great and Peyton was behaving so well. Even after 25 minutes of waiting, she was being good and Campbell was sleeping peacefully in her carseat. Finally they called my name and we went back into the tiny nurses station where they take your vital signs. At this point, Peyton decided she wasn't getting enough attention so she screamed. Loud. When she was satisfied that all eyes were on her, she proceeded to dump out her entire bowl of fruit loops onto the floor. Mortified, I started apologizing profusely to the nurse while simultaneously asking where the nearest vacuum cleaner was. The sweet nurse told me not to worry about it and said let's just go ahead and go into the room. 15 minutes later, the doctor finally comes in, we talk, he checks me out, blah, blah, blah.... he decides to give me a bunch of medicines and a shot. I was worried about how Peyton would handle seeing this, but amazingly she was good and repeatedly told the nurse that the needle was sharp and to be careful. Finally we leave and I quietly say my blessings, thankful that Peyton behaved fairly well and that the building was still standing.
Off to CVS we went to get my medicines filled. By this time, it had been a long morning and Peyton was losing her patience. I was hoping the pharmacist would notice that I had a migraine, a hungry baby, and a toddler who was getting irritable and would speed up the filling process. Nope. I swear she decided to take her sweet time so she could sit back and enjoy the show that was about to transpire.
In an attempt to entertain Peyton while waiting, we walked around the store naming all the objects we could. I'm pretty sure Peyton rolled her eyes at my lame game and thought I was an idiot for pretending to not know what a toothbrush was. She was quickly losing interest as we turned into the next aisle.
Then all hell broke loose.
Before I could realize what was happening, Peyton screamed, stuck her right arm out, and took off running. She knocked over EVERY. SINGLE. ITEM. ON. THE. SHELF. Down the entire aisle. It happened in slow motion and all I could do was sit there and laugh in disbelief. Instantly, my kid became that kid, the monster kid that moms secretly talk about during gossip sessions.
After finally convincing myself it was in fact not a nightmare, I began the slow process of picking up every item and restocking them. By this time, Campbell was screaming for a bottle and Peyton was casually perusing the next aisle, unattended, as if nothing had just happened. 20 minutes later after all items are back in their place, I grab Peyton and Campbell and walk over to the pharmacy counter asking if my medicines were ready. The pharmacist crossed her arms, told me no, and waited for the next act of Peyton's Show.
Peyton got out of my grip, hopped (literally) over to the candy aisle and demanded a chocolate bar that was the size of her head. I looked at her and said "hell no, you are not getting any sugar." That went over well. She then body slammed herself onto the floor while screaming and flailing her arms and legs. Campbell took this as a cue and started screaming bloody murder herself. I calmly picked up Campbell's carseat, left Peyton screaming in the candy aisle, walked back over to the pharmacy, asked for my medicines, paid, and walked out. I waited by the door as Peyton ran out after realizing that I had left without her, packed up both kids into the car, and sped out of the parking lot.
Minutes later, I walked into the house before even getting the keys out of the door, changed Peyton's diaper and threw her (not literally) into her bed and told her she better sleep for at least three hours. I haven't heard a peep out of her so far.
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