I'm no stranger to shame; I have kids. This morning Weston, Shane and I went down to the BX to dump some hot chocolate on ourselves, get some black t-shirts for Lloyd, mail a couple of packages, and pick up the mail. The place was packed with Marines, and there was a very stern-faced three star general front and center. The boys were strapped into the stroller, but Shane always starts to howl and squirm as soon as the stroller stops. I had to get him out because I couldn't get the packages out from the under-stroller basket with him in his seat. The second I let him out, all hell broke loose. He is impossible to hold when he wants down- he stiffens up and flings himself while twisting away. I set him down and gave him a little bowl of cheerios, hoping he would be quiet and relatively still for the 30 seconds I needed to mail the boxes. Before I could say 'No insurance, but I'll take all the extra humiliation you have, please', there were cheerios all over the post office floor and both of them were running in circles around the line, hooting like drunken monkeys. The extremely nice person behind me in line picked up the cheerios, and I finally got out of there with Shane tucked under my arm like a football, shrieking like a hyena (Shane, not me). We left the BX and went to the playground, where I vented the morning's frustration to several of my very lovely friends while Shane and Weston ground some dirt into the chocolate on their clothes and skin. I felt better and we went home for lunch. I was working in the kitchen, and all of a sudden it was entirely too quiet. I ran and opened the door, and sure enough, there they were, all the way down the hall, almost to the elevator. Right in front of one of those moms whose kids are always clean, well-dressed, and quiet. Because I am a good mom, I waited until the sitter arrived before I left for the thrift store.