Holy crap, Kohls.
The store is opening at FOUR in the morning on Friday.
Sorry Kohls, I'll be there around 830.
On Saturday, we went to the mall. My stomach felt a little off but I figured it was a good thing because it meant I couldn't eat the junk food.
Meaning my Ultimate Chocolate by Maggie Moo.
When we walked in I saw that Hickory Farms was set up.
"Cheeseball!" I shrieked.
I didn't realize I had said it so loud.
Until "Ball ball ball" echoed down the halls and several shoppers stopped to find who the nut screeching was.
"Amber," Tom hissed. "Could you try not to embarrass me?"
"I promise," I called over my shoulder as I rushed over to Hickory Farms.
I have to get a cheeseball each year.
I love their sausage too.
But I just got the cheeseball.
Maybe someone will send me a Hickory Farms sausage.
"Hint at it to your Mom," Tom said, coming up beside me as I pulled my cheeseball out of the cooler.
Mmm they have a dessert cheeseball. Interesting...
"My parents always send us Harry and David. With the fruit. Because they probably believe we never have any," I explained.
Which isn't true.
We always have at least apples in the house.
And lettuce. That's usually turning brown. Because I always get it thinking, "Okay THIS is the week when I'm going to have a lot of salads."
It rarely happens and the lettuce turns a strange shade of brown and then starts to leak.
But apples, we always have apples, because Tommy usually has one for a snack.
Sometimes bananas. That usually always start to turn brown. I wish I could only buy two bananas but I think the store frowns upon tearing bananas away from the bunch.
I got my beloved cheeseball.
Dang thing is $5.99. For a ball of CHEESE with almond shavings thrown on it.
Then we passed by Gymboree.
I love their clothes. Even though they are terribly expensive. I never go nuts in there, I'd never forgive myself, but I do get a shirt for the kids once in awhile...
"You can go in," Tom said, seeing my twisted face. I was doing this in my head, "Should I go in? No, I should NOT. You know what happens when you go in. You walk out with shirts totaling $60. For two shirts..."
"I can't go in," I said firmly. "I'm being good. Since I'm going out on Black Friday and all. I'm...being good.." I said weakly even though the sign on the door said SALE!
SALE! SALE! Cute outfit would be on SALE!
"Amber, just go in," Tom urged.
I mean..okay he complains when I buy a $25 sweater for Natalie but he's forcing me to GO IN??
I don't understand the man sometimes.
In the end I DID NOT go in.
"I'm good," I said, my voice at a strange pitch. But I will be getting a few things at their Black Friday sale.
And I even passed Maggie Moos!
Because of my stomach.
Otherwise I'd have been standing in line behind the sweet old lady who was ordering a chocolate shake "minus the whipped cream, dear."
But the whipped cream is the BEST PART.
Then Tom went into Spencers. Which is an amusing store.
Santa was already set up.
I'm also confused on why stores are already playing Christmas songs.
Can they not wait until AFTER Thanksgiving?
Today Tommy is having a Peace Party at his school. Then he's off tomorrow, Thursday and Friday.
For the invitation for the Peace Party the teacher wrote, "Wear a feather!"
Like I have a feather lying around my house. Is she serious? I guess I could pluck one from the hand-cuffs but I'm not sure how appropriate that would be in a KINDERGARTEN room.
And how would I wear this feather? Do I just stick it in my hair and hope it doesn't blow away. Plus it would be a SMALL feather, no one would see it and I'd probably get a lot of, "Oh you have something in your hair.." from other people.
"That's my feather!" I'd say proudly.
Seriously, I don't have massive lice.
I probably will go without a feather and hope they supply one. Or something.
Then I worry that I'll be the only Mom without a feather. Perhaps everyone else rushed out to get a real feather. Or the crafty moms made their own feather complete with glitter and sequins and fancy crap that I could never put together.
I could TRY to make my own feather but it'll probably end up looking deformed.
"What's that?" all the kids will ask, pointing.
"Is that a HORN coming out of your head?" the class bully might taunt.
No you little brat, it's my FEATHER that I MADE with LOVE.
I think I'll just go without a feather.