Where we go to the mall and now I have to build a time machine

Have you been to the mall on a Saturday night lately?  Seriously, go to the mall.  You may need to take some sort of anxiety medication before you go if  are a mom of a toddler and a newborn.  Heck, take it regardless just to be safe.  I haven’t been to the mall in years and most certainly not on a Saturday night.  If I have been, it is during the week early in the day to let A. James ride the carousel and so I can eat an almond pretzel from Aunt Annies.   Yummm.  Even delicious pretzels cant fix this mess.

See I needed to get out of the house.  I’ve been in the house for toooo long with two kids.  N. James went out of town for work and I was single mom-ing it (except for one glorious night where my cousin came to stay and I was convinced that a two mom relationship would solve all the world’s problems, but that is another story for another post).  Jump to husband coming home, we decide to head out of town for some Qdoba, grocery shopping, frozen yogurt and a quick stop by the mall for a carousel ride and some nursing bras.  

Yes, we had an exciting Saturday planned. 

We didn’t leave until around 3pm because we still suck at time management and juggling two kids.  If we would have left a few hours earlier we would have missed the gruesome sites of the mall and maybe then I wouldn’t need to build a time machine, but it didn’t happen.  See, Saturdays after 6 pm the mall turns into a breeding ground for middle school kids.  A big disgusting breeding ground where twelve year olds are making out behind American Eagle and walking around with their hands in each other’s back pockets by Build-a-Bear.  Little girls traveling in packs wearing eye shadow and lipstick sit around in the food court with their phones out texting.  Gross.  I swear I saw on three different occasions a girl asking her girlfriends to “go ask that guy in the yellow hat for his number.”  

Seriously, girls.  The only “Guy in the Yellow Hat” you should be worried about is Curious George’s friend.  Now go eat your fruit snacks and later we can make macaroni pictures. For real, these kids aren’t even old enough to drive to the mall and here they are swapping spit in the photo booths.  I had to keep myself from grabbing a few and asking, “Does your mother know you are wearing this?!” 

Sigh. 

I think what made me the most upset is that not only will that be my precious little angels in ten years, but that I realized just how old I am getting.  Instead of giving high-fives because “Guy in the Yellow Hat” seriously had it going on, I’m thinking about building a time machine to keep my girls young and making a mental note to look up all girl schools in Alaska (no mini-skirts there!) when I get home. 

Ugg.  When did I get this old?  Did it happen all of a sudden or gradually?  Am I going to start using phrases like “kids nowadays” and “back when I was young” soon? What's next?  I stop laughing at penis jokes and start seeing the appeal of Matlock?

Yuck. 

When we left I told Nathan that we had to start saving up money for a bribe vacation fund.  That way when it looked like A. James was getting too serious with a guy we could distract her with a vacation to the Greek Isles.  

“Would that have worked with you?  Would you have chosen a vacation to the Greek Isles over me?”  Trick question?

 “No, but you were different.”  I said.

“Yeah, that’s what they think too.”

When did he get all wise and sage-like?  Probably around the same time I started freaking out on the middle school girls inside of Victoria Secret.