Oh The Places We Go (To Cry)

Today is Monday.
We’re off to get groceries!
We’re off and away!

Stop smashing the bread.
Please leave on your shoes.
No you can’t steer the cart
any direction you choose.
You can’t see over the handle, and that you must know.
Let go. I’m not kidding. l decide where we go.

We walk up and down isles. Passing people who stare.
An old lady will say, “Ha, I remember being there.”
With my head full of grocery lists and my shoes hurting my feet,
Oh Gawd, I took too long, the fat one’s starting to shriek.

And I cannot not find any
way to calm his ass down.
And I’m only half way done, of course,
and can’t put my groceries down.

He likes to cry here, he likes to cry there
But it’s illegal to leave him in a box out front, in the wide open air.

No matter at Target, or Diebergs or Schnucks
to his grandparents, zoo, lunch, and Magic House, too.
We interrupt everyone’s day, and collect dirty looks,
because he thinks that’s where we go to cry, so that’s what he’ll do.

And when we walk out with only half our list complete,
I tell him, don’t worry. Don’t stew.
We will head to another store.
so you can start crying there, too.


The Sam Dance

Once upon a time, in a club far away, I used to dance. Then, I was quite certain I was blessed with an amazing ability to rock any house music that came in my path. Now, I am quite certain I was making a complete ass out of myself in front of a crowd of people who were hopefully too drunk to take notice. My mother always said, nothing good happens after midnight – which, appropriately, was typically the time I had enough liquid courage in me to strap on my dancing shoes.

Regardless of how dumb I looked (and I assure you it was fairly dumb), I always enjoyed the complete abandon I felt while on the dance floor until all hours of the morning. I thought it felt a bit like being a kid again, and at the time I didn’t really think about the fact that children aren’t the greatest dancers.

However, from my womb has sprung a child that each day dances like no one is watching. It is as though my fantastic dance moves somehow became embedded in my DNA and were handed down to this blessed child. Try as I might, it is rare to catch him rocking it on camera. But the opportunity does present its self once in a while.

I submit for your approval, the first in what I hope is many Sam dances caught on tape. I added the hashtag #samdance so it is easy for my family and friends to find it on YouTube so they can watch it again, and again, and again. It’s been almost a week and I assure you it doesn’t get old


Mrs SmartyPants