One Bambino, Two Bambino, Three Bambino, Four.

The kid in the highchair, maybe about 8 months old, was super cute. Looked just like his dad, only miniature. This is what I thought to myself while waiting patiently for Lauren to arrive to our dinner date last week. I soon noticed as I pseudo spied on the cute young family (mainly the dad) that there was a 2 year old sitting next to the mom. Wow I thought. That's a lot of babies. I then began to calculate in my head how many months in the last three years she's been prego. It was a lot.

Lauren and I sat at CPK, reminiscing about our childhoods. We literally sat for hours reading letters we'd written to each other when we were 9. Finding out that I used the term "Wuz doin" more frequently than anyone should was sort of embarrassing for a moment. It wasn't until we got to L's "returned to sender" letter to Jodie Sweetin that I began to feel a little bit better.

Now the cute family was about to leave. As they stood up I noticed the 7 month old watermelon the mom was carrying under her shirt. I tell myself this so that I did not have a sympathy panic attack for the cutest family ever as I realized she would soon be carrying around a newborn to go with her currently screaming infant and cranky toddler.

I soon got to the bar and quickly ordered a bottle of wine (don't worry Mom, I shared it!) where I normally sit and gossip with my girls. This time though, the night took a a more serious discussion route than which martini sounded the best. The recent arrival of more babies in my circle of friends sparked a talk about how many kids everyone wanted. Sort of a dead topic for me at this point in my life, but I joined in anyway.

Soon the chat enlightened me on how many siblings all of our parents had and it was then that I realized - Holy hell, my grandparents were out of their freaking minds. My parents both have 3 siblings, and if you do the math, this means that there were 4 kids. FOUR. Now being an only child, I think 2 is a handful. 3 is a lot...but 4? Take the 4 plus the 2 parents, and that is a 1 hour wait every single time you attempt to go out to dinner!

Now I could understand if, oops, triplets, on the second go 'round. But no, all single births. I have to wonder what sort of plants were being smoked by what I thought were my conservative grandparents! My mother and aunt are 11 years apart, but there are 2 others in between. I tried to calculate how many years my grandmother was pregnant in a span of 12, but I kept losing count as my brain began to hurt.

I think I have finally begun to realize why I'm an only child. I'd imagine that 4 kids means that the parents rely on some help. Both my parents being the oldest, they sort of already helped raise 3 kids each by the time they even got around to having me. I would also guess that growing up in a human zoo would ensure some sort of birth control/safe sex alternative for all involved.

All I can say is I forgive you Mom & Dad for the lack of sibling, and thank you that we never had to wait more than 20 minutes at the Sizzler, while the parties of 5, 6, and 12, might still be waiting for their "go" at the salad bar.

Retail Un-Therapy

November 2007, my last blog, and also the day I stated that I was un-not blogging. Yes. I know. I'm well aware that I'm officially no longer allowed to call myself a blogger.

That said, I'm on a mission to redeem myself. Once again, here goes...

So to catch you up a smidge...I've entered back into the retail world. It was certainly an odd transition, going from daily stock updates and economical woes to 6-step product system recommendations for hair care and skin care. I think after so many years dealing with people only in business interaction, I'd forgotten how much I actually hate the majority of regular human beings.

Why you wonder?

Have you ever heard of "mall walkers"? In case not, let me explain. Mall walkers are lunatic people who get out of bed at 6am to walk. And no, that's not what I find "lunatic" about them. Its the part where after rolling out of bed at such a cruel hour, they then get in their cars to DRIVE to the nearest mall, and then proceed to walk the corridors of the nearest town center.

About 1 year ago, when I was working at Towson Town Center, I noticed just this; Mall walkers. Now, at Tyson's Corner, this is no longer the correct term. These mall walkers are much more serious. I prefer to call them "mall runners". Yes, picture it. If the stores were open, I'd have to wonder if these people just might have stolen merchandise shoved underneath their Under Armour as they dash through the halls seemingly seeking their freedom from the super scary mall cops.

I also feel I must mention one particular mall walker... always with a Nordstrom E-bar coffee in hand, that walks down the escalator, then walks back up the escalator, over and over again until he feels he's reached his pre-set criteria for his daily exercise. Frankly, he's always in my way as I attempt to sprint downward to work, as I am usually running late from the ridiculous 495 commute. And wouldn't this routine be more effective on stairs that don't move for you?

Now of course, we haven't even chatted yet about the actual mall shoppers. For example, meet spastic crazy lady who frantically runs around your freshly straightened store and then proceeds to wash her face with a cleanser tester. Using the tester? Not weird. Entering the store covered in another brand's face puke green face mask prior to using the tester? You decide.

I will say this...no two days are ever the same when you work in a mall. I've learned some people's life stories, I've been hit on by men AND women, and once I even found out about someones pregnancy before their husband. I've been asked advice, and have been told I've made someones day. How lovely you may think.

I've been shoplifted, I've been screamed at. I've been told I'm an f'ing idiot (although he wasn't quite as sensored about it.) And I hope everyone enjoyed New Years Eve, Day, MLK, and frankly any other holiday that isn't Thanksgiving or Christmas, because I'm the sucker that has to work so you people can have something to do during your down time. Retail therapy I believe its called. Oh boy, isn't President's Day coming up? Maybe I'll see you at the mall.