We Made It Home With Eight Fingers And One Attempted Murder

We went to Northern Virginia for the weekend to visit friends. Which is pretty much the only reason to go the Northern Virginia. Otherwise, you are going to Washington D.C., and people are much more impressed.

We stay in a hotel because our friends refuse to purchase the condo next door as a guest home for us. Also, because my son is obsessed with hotel pools since he thinks all of them will look like this:

Young Kid Section
Great Wolf Lodge ruined my life.

This hotel’s pool looks more like a concrete hole filled with water next to a hot tub that the staff eye suspiciously and add chemicals to every ten minutes.

My son jumps in. My husband jumps in. I put one foot in and say: Someone forgot to tell the pool that it’s indoors. And then my daughter started crying when the water got above her knees and I said: THANK GOD. Oh, I mean, sweetie should we just sit on the edge and dip our feet in? {smile}

My daughter tries to nod but the tears have frozen her head in place. I make her into a towel burrito and sit with two frozen feet while my son swims and my husband turns blue.

Conveniently, the lifeguard is playing on her iPhone so I know that they’re safe. The thoughtful young lady must’ve been downloading the resuscitation app where you can “run codes like an Expert.” And by code they mean when a person stops breathing and/or their heart has stopped beating. I can’t wait for the EMT pulls this out to double-check what drugs his IPHONE suggests he administers to the DYING PERSON. Phew. All that human error crap is OVER. Actually, could you just send in an iPhone on a stretcher? At least my son could play one last game of Angry Birds.

Afterward, we head to Whole Foods to get a snack. My daughter begins crying again because her mama didn’t bring gloves and people WALK to Whole Foods in Northern Virginia even when it’s sixteen degrees out. My daughter just keeps looking at her hands and crying harder. I attempt to put one in my mouth like I’m a nine-month-old whose mouth is the solution to every problem encountered. A strange green blob? Better put it in my mouth! A white two-pronged cord? Better put it in my mouth! A foot that I seem to be able to move WITH MY MIND? Better put it in my mouth.

When we arrive at the warm organic wonderland, I immediately grab N’s favorite fruit, blackberries, to placate my guilt that she will soon be eight fingered-Abby. (When you lose a finger, you often change your name. I’ve heard.) I walk through the checkout without bothering to pay and go upstairs to the tables.

Now, we are an entourage of two dads, three kids, a pregnant mama and me. It’s quite crowded so we only have one choice — share a table with the not-quite-hipster couple sitting at a table for ten.

I made the wanna-be-hipsters green because they’d never want to be green. I mean except for like their car and food purchases. But they'd totally want to be gray or fuchsia in a pictogram.


Instead of getting up and moving down one to allow for seven people to sit down, the boyfriend pulls the seat between me and him CLOSER TO HIM. In case his pleather man purse needs a chair.

And THIS continues to happen until the couple finally leaves.

Me to the wanna-be hipsters who are no longer within earshot: Gee, when you care about the environment and your body as much as the shoppers at Whole Foods do, you know that allowing two families to stay huddled around one end of the table instead of MOVING YOUR ORGANIC BUTTS DOWN A CHAIR is the best way to be champions of good in our world.

Then we attempt to kill someone by dropping a metal matchbox car over the balcony and into the wine section.

Perhaps the couple had a point.

Alex Iwashyna

Alex Iwashyna went from a B.A. in philosophy to an M.D. to a SAHM, poet and writer by 30. She spends most of her writing time on LateEnough.com, a humor blog (except when it's serious) about her husband fighting zombies, awkward attempts at friendship, and dancing like everyone is watching. She also has a soft spot for culture, politics, and rude Southern people who offend her Yankee sensibilities. She parents 2 elementary-aged children, 1 foster baby, 3 cats, and 1 puppy, who are all Southern but not rude. Yet.

25 thoughts to “We Made It Home With Eight Fingers And One Attempted Murder”

  1. All hail the pleather man purse! It deserves a chair of its own, and its owner deserves more space on either side than the average human being.

  2. Next time skip Whole Foods, there is one in Richmond anyways. Go to Wegmans, they even had a kids sections with train to play and tv. Plus plenty of sitting space.

  3. Where they wearing their Ambercromie jeans, playing on their iPhones, with hipster glass, have messenger bags with macs in them, and at least on item of clothing in plaid? I need to know how much of hipsters they are before I decide my level hate.

    1. They were not on their iPhones… They were on that line of hipster and preppy — basically they looked like pretentious yuppies hipsters who shopped their as some sort of political statement while driving off in their SUV to a condo much too big and expensive for two people in their late twenties — carrying the smug realization that they knew how to solve the world’s problems while making enough money to go on trips to third-world counties and really BE WITH THE PEOPLE or AT LEAST SEE THEM FROM THE BALCONY OF OUR FOUR STAR HOTEL AND TAKE PICTURES.

  4. “My daughter tries to nod but the tears have frozen her head in place.”

    HILARIOUS! Laughed for an hour when I read that line.

  5. Um….you should have sat to his right. And had an awkward, but entertaining, conversation. OR, have N sit to his right and remind her of her cold hands so she could cry him and his special love muffin out of the store. OR, have Dr. Wonderful sit to his right and you 2 could discuss medical gross stuff OVER the couple. Just some thoughts for future fun, I mean, situations.

  6. First…LOVE your diagrams. Totally gave me the visual I needed to be able to say…

    I agree with some of the other comments…you needed to surround the Wannabe Hipsters with Family Fun. Imagine the joy of blackberries being tossed on the table by their Blackberries. Or the twinge of pleasure when a chair is knocked into Hipster’s Man Purse.

    Honestly, though? I probably would have asked them to move. In a very slow voice. And a fake smile. And probably while my friend grabs the small of her back and groans while rubbing her belly. And while my kids cry that they want to sit next to each other.

  7. Ah yes it doesn’t matter how liberal or green a person is, when they see children it’s like garlic to a vampire. I guess they have a point, kids aren’t green or earth-friendly or left-leaning they’re all “Me, me, me, me” capitalist pigs who expect you to tend to their needs and give them things.
    I love the metal matchbox car over the balcony…hilarious.

  8. I agree with Mandy and Melissa. I would try Mandy’s suggestion first and if they didn’t or gave you a hard time, I would have made them squirm…guess I’m evil that way. Hahaha!

  9. I almost had to sit next to two clones much like yours on our back from Seattle in May with a screaming, fussing, not wanting nurse, tiered 10 month old. They were less than enthused about the seating arrangement and told me so frequently until the flight attendant (thank you god!) moved us in all of our noisy wonderfulness.

  10. so I used to be a lifeguard. I cannot go to public pools because I go into lifeguard mode. I can just see all the kids killing themselves. it’s so not fun pooltime.

    want I should kill those hipsters? I’m in a feisty mood and ready to shed some blood.

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