Thanksgiving: It's the Breast!

With the big boys off school this week for the Thanksgiving holiday, not only are they missing out on valuable information: 

Leonardo:  My teacher says you shouldn't put tape over your eyes because it's dangerous.

But we're also missing out on those precious "me" hours that we have to ourselves...  Well, to ourselves with the baby, that is.  The boys attend school Monday - Thursday for 3.5 hours per day which is a nice transition before going to Kindergarten next year.  I was shocked when I received a call from the school yesterday asking me to come up there right away. 
Let me paint a picture for you by saying that I am:

disorganized
always running late
scatterbrained
constantly rolling my eyes

SCHOOL ADMINISTRATOR:  Raina, you're supposed to be here for a meeting right now.  We're waiting for you!
ME:  What?  I *stammering, looking for words* I have five kids right now.
SCHOOL:  Bring them.
ME:  Oh.  Okay, I guess we can walk.
SCHOOL:  Good.  We'll wait for you.
ME:  Oh *clearly disappointed* What's this about?  I don't -- Did I know about this?  *looking through stacks of papers now disorganized, racking my brain for any recollection, scatterbrained*
SCHOOL:  Hold on, please.  *lala la la la on hold*  Oh, I'm so sorry, Raina.  Yes, someone called the wrong parent so that's where the mix up was.  Sorry about that.  So we're just going to wait for you, and you get here as quick as you can.
ME:  Um, okay.  I'll be there in fifteen minutes.

So here I am, with my friend's two kids and my three.  The baby is sleeping, and I'm scrambling to get everyone ready and out the door so we can go to this "meeting" that I had no idea existed... and that's when IT happened.  Gavin was messing around in the kitchen and hit his head on the corner of the cabinet and flopped down onto the ground.  Naturally, without much of a flinch, I glance over to scold him, per usual, and I see that there is blood running down his face. 
I roll my eyes. 
After cleaning him up, I call the school to tell them that NOW I am on my way...
late.

So it's only reasonable that as we are walking up to the school, I imagine that I am in trouble.  I don't know if this goes back to elementary school where I never "worked up to my potential" or high school where I was less than desirable to be around.  Okay, that is a drastic understatement right there.  I was intolerable and always in the office, left to ponder why my vice principle owned so many sweater dresses.

It doesn't help that sweater dresses are totally back in style, a constant reminder of my youth. 

I get up to the school and they hand me an envelope with Gavin's name on it.  It's a Thanksgiving card for our family.  Inside are gift cards to the grocery store worth $125. 
I cried, mostly because I was not in trouble. 
They have some kind of partnership with another school and our family was one of the families they chose to benefit from this.  I believe I am much more inclined to attend the parent meetings now.  In all seriousness, though, I felt really blessed and really proud.  My children are amazing, and obviously have made some kind of impact on the adults at their school.
Don't get me wrong, they are bona fide crazy monkeys...  but pretty amazing as well.

I had already done my shopping for our feast, and would like to know if anyone has any guesses as to exactly how long a shopping trip takes when your son has the EXACT same conversation with EVERY person in the store.

GAVIN:  Are you having a Thanksgiving party like we are?
RANDOM SHOPPER:  many variations of the same answer, all being yes.  Although, one time a woman asked if she could come to ours, in which Gavin replied that she wasn't invited by his mom so the answer was no.
GAVIN:  *shock and awe every time* You are???

We made it through a very long and eventful evening at Walmart (and I mean evening) and we finally got to the checkout stand.  The bags are gathering, piling higher and higher in the cart until Rubens can reach one.  I had purchased a new bra from the clearance bin.  It was so cheap that I couldn't pass it up, but I'm referring to it as my "Just Kinda My Size" bra.  It's the kind that come in a box with a picture on the front of a very happy woman in her bra... As if wearing one is pleasant in any way.  I look over in time to see RJ giving the woman and her bra a look that is pure baby love.  He puts the box on his shoulder in a hug, and proceeds patting and rubbing what would be her back.  He envelopes her for quite a long time. 
I turned to the woman behind me and said:

He nurses.


So...  anyone know of a babysitter that takes Albertson's gift cards?

Wishing everyone a safe and blessed holiday tomorrow!!!