Somethin' Bad's Goin' Down At Marshall's.

I know we have a new President. I know it's a new day in America. But in some parts of the world, some things never change.

So while Oprah and Barbara Streisand were toasting each other, something bad was happening in Tennessee. And it was happening to me...OF COURSE!

Now I don't tell you this to gain your pity. I don't need your pity. (I'd love to have it, if you happen to be offering it up, but I wouldn't say I NEED it.) I'm telling you this because it's important. It's important that you know this story, just in case you ever happen to be in Marshall's. With me. At the same time.

Run.

Don't say you weren't warned.

I don't think it's news to anyone who reads my blog that something happens to me from time to time, something, oh, how do you say this, "digestional." Is that a word? No? "Digestational?" How about that? Still no? Well, no matter. It is now.

Maybe you're new here. If so, "welcome," and also read these. That way you won't feel behind on all of this I'm sharing with you. Otherwise you might think to yourself, is she really sharing this story? Is she really sharing with us what happened to her in the bathroom? How horrific, how crude, does she do that often? And you need to know - YES. I do this. Often.

Riddle me this. Does this happen to any of you? Do any of you have a particular place that the moment you walk in to it you run screaming for the bathroom? You can't even look at the first item or greet the first person before you clutch your purse, grab your child's hand, and pray to the sweet Lord you make it on time?

Anyone?
Anyone?

Well, I do. And yet I continue to shop at Marshall's. And I continue to peruse at LifeWay Christian Bookstore. What is wrong with me? I have frequented these bathrooms so much that I actually notice when they add a plant, or change the air freshener to a different scent. I am on a first name basis with their choice brand of toilet paper and I often bump into Marci who cleans the Marshall's bathroom every 2 hours. I've seen pictures of her kids and know she's looking into having lower back surgery or continuing on with acupuncture - she's not sure which.

It's an embarrassing situation. But at least I can still make friends.

And yet all that came to a screeching halt the other day when my time on the handbag aisle came to an abrupt stop. And I mean, abrupt. It was so abrupt that I dropped the bag I was holding, grabbed Remi's hand and started yelling, "Find your daddy, find your daddy, find your daddy, find your daddy."

Thankfully we did find him. And as quickly as I could I shoved her in his arms. He asked me if I needed him to take Rocco, but Rocco was in the buggy and the buggy was holding me up. So I couldn't part with the buggy. Thus, I couldn't part with Rocco. He was simply collateral damage at that point. So even though the AG was nice enough to offer his services, all I could answer was "I got no time. I got no time. I got no time."

_______

And herein lies the part of the story where I talk openly with God.

"Dear Lord, please, I beg of you. Do not let Marci be in this bathroom. If it means that she is down in her back and can't even get up to care for her three children - then that's the way it has to be. Knock her out! Just whatever you do, do not let her be in this bathroom. It would be better for her, I assure you. Please God, please."

"Oh, hello, Marci."

___________

And now begins the part of the story where I wheel a buggy full of goods (plus one Rocco) into a bathroom that clearly states "all items should remain outside." Upon which a store manager follows me into the bathroom to tell me that...

"...taking items into the bathroom is not allowed, not because we think you are going to steal anything you understand, but just because you can't trust everyone, ya know? I mean, even my cousin Skid once tried to shoplift a wrench from Home Depot but he was caught and charged even though he was just a kid, ya know? And that's why we try and provide a way for people to not even look guilty, ya know? We ask that you keep your items outside just to avoid the very appearance of guilt, ya know?"

Oh my Lord. Just take the buggy. Take the baby. Take it all. Take my purse. Just get the heck out of here!

_______

Here begins the part of the story where Miss Store Manager takes my buggy and pushes it out into the hallway, leaves my baby pushed halfway under the stall, halfway out, and leaves.

And a mother comes in with her son. Her son is dressed for Halloween as some kind of military man, although dressing as Damien from the movie The Omen might have been a more fitting choice.

_______

Here begins the part of the story where Damien proceeds to look at me from between the stall door and the stall wall, while his mom uses the restroom two stalls down all while talking to her husband on the phone.

"Go away."

He continues to stare.

"Go away," I say to him.

Still. He watches.

"I'm very sick. And you might get sick, too. So move - you're gonna step on my baby."

"No, I'm not."

"So you can hear me? Well move or I'm gonna tell your momma."

Now he sticks his tongue between the door and the wall. I reach to grab it. I miss.

"Go on!" I say louder and louder hoping to goodness that Damien's mom will hear me and quit begging her husband to meet them for lunch. If my small chance meeting with Damien is any indication I KNOW why her husband doesn't want to meet her for lunch.

He walks away and decides to play with the water faucets. Beautiful.

_______

Now begins the part of the story where Damien sets out to humiliate me with great success. And God proceeds to punish me for watching Soul Train and copying their moves in my room when no one was looking.

"Mama, it stinks in here."

"What if we ate at Macaroni Grill? Doesn't pasta sound good?" She asks her husband for the umpteenth time.

"Mama! That lady in there is sick!"

"Do you think J's would be too busy? What about pizza?"

"Mama!!"

"Well, what do you want to eat?"

"Mama!! Mama!! She is sick. You need to help her...It smells like doodie."

Oh, seriously. This is not happening. I am better than this. I serve you faithfully, Lord. Why is this happening?

_______

And here begins - and ENDS - the part of the story where Remi Hope gets loose from her father, comes running into the bathroom and makes a friend with Damien, Satan's son. His military costume did nothing but intrigue her. I can hear her daddy in the hall, "Remi, get out here. Mommy doesn't feel good. Get out here. Remi, I'm not gonna tell you again. Get out here. Don't make me get out the spanking spoon."

But it doesn't work. Pleading only makes them more determined.

He finds Remi interesting as well, and quickly shows her how to stick her tongue between the stall door and embarrass her mother to no end.

It's the American way, I suppose.

And on that note I heard, "Well then, we can just grab a burger. Let's just grab a burger. He'll eat a burger and I'll eat a burger. Will you eat a burger?"

For the love of God man - go get a burger with your wife and Damien.

As for me, I'm headed to LifeWay.