Sandwich Shop Madness

I have recently become a huge fan of Beach Hut sandwiches. Whoever decided to put cream cheese, bacon, and avocado all in the same delicious realm of sandwichy goodness is a genius. The other day, I thought I'd make my regular trip over there for lunch, because the day was getting a little too chaotic for my taste and I needed a little consumption therapy. I eat for pleasure. Not gonna lie. Anyway, I loaded the kids into the car and headed over there with my two little screaming monsters. When I got there, I realized that I didn't have the stroller. Huge bummer, but Jordan can walk. I unbuckled Emma and carried her around to Jordan's side of the car, and then realized that I forgot Jordan's shoes as well. But I have two arms, and even if I am beginning to look like an Olympic bodybuilder from lifting two kids all day, the arms could always use another workout. So I picked up both kids and carried them into the deli to get my sandwich that I was even more desperate for at that point (my mouth is watering now just thinking about that lovely, fatty concoction). I think I'm addicted. I got inside just as beads of sweat began trickling down my face, and waited... and waited... Lines really stink when you're holding 24 pounds of squirming energy in one arm and 15 pounds of it in the other. Finally got to the counter and Jordan had a melt down. He wanted to walk around -- perfectly reasonable for a toddler. As I yelled my order over the counter, past the lovely cacophony of screaming children, I began to sweat profusely, both from the difficulty of holding both kids and from the embarrassment of being in an eating establishment with two screaming kids while trying to order and somehow get my purse around to the front of me enough to grab a credit card as people are staring. And the more I sweat, the more Jordan began to kick and flail and wriggle out of my now slippery arms. It was a disaster in the making, and suddenly, as quickly as it all began, my name was called, my sandwichy perfection was ready, and I made a mad dash to my soundproof car. Everything was all better. Until I showed up there again today and the employees rolled their eyes. The moral of this story is that, if you want REALLY fast service, you are welcome to borrow my kids.