Forget the easy button. I’ll take a mute button, please.

Yesterday after I wrote about my gray-hair-producing trip to Shop Rite, a few people shared some mortifying out of the mouths of babes moments of their own.

Which reminded me of two others I had just last week.

That’s another one of the downsides to having lots of kids.

And lots of young kids.

There is the lack of sleep.

The amount of laundry.

The driving.

But with every child you add to your family, the number of where is the nearest exit? comments they make increases.

And sometimes they happen simultaneously.

That is one of the least enjoyable and most challenging aspects of having several children.

For me, anyway.

So, before I forget, let me share these other two from last week…

There are two little girls who live two houses down from us.

They are the same age as Number 4, and Number 5.

Number 4 is constantly bugging me to go play with them.

I’ve never met the parents, but I’ve left a couple notes in the mailbox inviting them to come over.

They’ve never been answered.

Last weekend, Number 4 and 5 spotted the two girls playing outside in their yard.

I guess they yelled over to them, and the two girls wandered up to our house.

The younger one got caught in some prickers at the edge of our property, and Number 3 came inside to get me.

So I walked down and untangled her.

And then I told Number 4 that her friends had to go home, but that maybe we could set up a playdate once I spoke to their parents.

I walked the two little girls back through the yard of the house between our two houses, and then to their backyard.

Number 3, 4, and 5 came with me.

Let me say first, that we have a pretty big yard.

It’s almost 3 acres, and it’s all wide open.

And we have a lot of crap in our yard, but it’s kind of spread out.

So it doesn’t look that bad.

The two little girls have a much smaller yard.

But they might have as much stuff in it as we do in ours.

So it looks a little more,

cluttered.

Well, we got to their backyard, and Number 4 made herself right at home and started playing on all their stuff.

I introduced myself to the dad who had just come outside, and I told him I wasn’t able to keep an eye on the kids because I was trying to make dinner.

Plus, I didn’t even know if he had told his daughters that they could come to our house.

So we kind of, sort of, tentatively set up a playdate for sometime over Spring Break.

Then we said goodbye.

And as we were turning around, Number 3 yelled,

“MOM!

That was pretty much the WORST. HOUSE. EVER!”

Yeah.

I’m thinking the chances of that playdate ever happening just decreased by about 100%.

So that happened last Sunday.

Then, on Tuesday, I took Numbers 3 through 7 swimming at the Y.

There is a one hour window where the little therapy pool is open for free swim from 11- 12 on Tuesdays.

At 12:00, that pool turns into Cocoon.

It is filled with about 50 people over the age of 75.

They arrive early and sit on the benches, and wait for the clock to say 12:00.

So at 11:59, I got the kids out of the pool and was drying them off.

There were a bunch of senior citizens sitting on the bench waiting to float around in the pool.

Number 5 was staring at one of them in particular.

And staring.

And staring.

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Mommy!

WHY IS THAT MAN WEARING A LADIES BATHING SUIT???”

It wasn’t a man.

I grabbed her arm, and headed straight for the locker room.

If I’m lucky, that lady’s hearing is shot.

But just to be on the safe side, we’re going to skip free swim on Tuesdays for the next few months.

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