flip flops kimvanveeblog
Raising Boys

My exercise routine in flip flops.

You know you get those moments when you’re out with the kids where you stop and think, what was I thinking?! When they’ve all lost their minds and not even bribery or chocolate or both can get them to stop?

I took my youngest to the doctor today. Yay, go mama, get your kid checked up and medicated for that cough.

No, very big no.

The visit with the doctor was the easy part, ha ha ha, there was hardly any screaming, zero crying for the first time and he only barged into the doctors office three times before our appointment.

Getting the meds at the pharmacy is another story all together.

When I have both kids with me (I know, this should never happen right?!) they run in circles around the front counter and between the aisles of fragile pharmacy gifting stock and medicines in glass bottles on bottom shelves, mom silently praying and trying not to looked stressed.

I only had my youngest with me, pre nap time, so he’s wild, like out of control wild, he’s going behind the counter to say hello to the pharmacists, he’s running around the aisles while I’m waiting for my turn to hand over my script. I try to pick him up, he just wriggles free. Oh did I mention that I’ve been awake since 3 am with back pain, so there’s that.

So we finally get our script over the counter and I turn around and he’s bolted for the door.

Out the door.

Across the grass.

Past the fish pond.

Almost all the way to the KFC next door before I can catch him.

Wearing flip flops, not being able to breathe, and trying to keep what’s left of my dignity in tact.

We get back into the pharmacy, he decides he wants some sweets (you know they cram as many treats as they can onto the till point to you’re stuffed trying to get away with nothing.). So I think, great, a distraction.

Wrong.

He flips a few out the box onto the floor, starts picking them up and while I’m paying at the counter he makes another dash for the door. I run, the cleaning lady runs, the shop assistant runs, people in the street are shouting. Once again the KFC is in his sights. I literally grab him by the bottom of his tracksuit top and carry him, like that, back to the pharmacy.

Dignity can eat my shorts.

I can promise that he did this at least five times while we were in there, well in and out there, so I’ve had my exercise for the week, as well as coughed up a lung (who needed it anyway). He is now fast asleep from all his shenanigans and I am exhausted.

The flip flops in question.

I swear, it doesn’t matter if your wearing flip flops, high heels or running shoes, when your kid runs towards danger you run like the wind is chasing you. All decorum and dignity go out the window for the safety of your little one, am I right moms?

Of course I’m right! Now, can I have another coffee?


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