"So was it fun?"

That's what a very dear friend asked me when I posted a status on Facebook that said I would not take the twins with me the next time I had numerous errands to run.

I had to think about it for a minute.

Fun?

I don't know that I could necessarily say that.

The other shoppers probably had a laughfest over my twin girls.  Trying to keep them from running around in three different directions (I'm still trying to figure out how that's possible when there's only two of them, but there it is), not push in the foam cups of every bra they saw, drumming on shelves, and plaintively asking when we were going to get the oldest twin's new sneakers, wanting to walk out with a stuffed Grinch and his dog Sam...and that was just in Kohl's.  Oh, and that's where the guy was running a floor cleaner over the linoleum at the checkout registers, and my youngest twin was sure that the cleaner was a monster that would eat her. 

They were very intrigued by the post office, when I went to mail two books and my rent check.  Fortunately, small-town post offices are staffed by nice folks who think my little terrors are the cutest thing around.  That was our first stop.  The whole way from there to Kohl's, the oldest twin rambled on and on about how monsters and giants are afraid of little girls, and how Unca D flicks the giants and scares them away.  Come to think of it, that's probably why Twin #2 came even more unglued over the floor cleaner at Kohl's.  But I digress.

After striking out on the sneakers at Kohl's, we went on to Target, for both prescriptions and sneakers.  They both charmed another customer at the pharmacy, who was a grandma of twin girls about a week younger.  Twin #1 chose her sneakers while Twin #2 has to have the prescription bag taken from her and the handles rolled up so that she won't drag it on the floor, like I kept telling her not to and she kept doing anyway.  They were cute enough in the checkout line that they got stickers.

A short ride later, and by "short," I mean it took longer to buckle up and then unbuckle again when I parked than it took to drive from Target to Giant, and we're walking into the grocery store.  We're in desperate need of butter, although I make a happy detour and pick up some Reese's peanut butter cups.  I need the chocolate.  I grab the butter and am tooling on down the aisle when Twin #2 comes running up.  "I got da butter for yew, Auntie J!" she says cheerily, dropping another pound of butter into my little cart.

I feel like I'm running laps as I return the butter and sally forth.  I picked up stuff for lunch and stuff for dinner tonight (lasagna; aren't you thrilled?), and then gawk at the self check-out lane line.  Eep.

I got into a regular line, and as I'm standing there, trying to keep the twins occupied (they're almost four and have the attention spans of a cat) and out of the nearby freezer endcap that has ice cream treats in it, I feel something being yanked out of my pocket.  Twin #2 pops her thumb in her mouth and looks up at me somewhat defiantly, holding her little stuffed pig in her other hand.  "I want my piggy!" she says.

We're about ready to leave when an arm appears out of nowhere on my left, piggy in hand.  "Is this yours?" the customer that's two behind me asks.  I'm just barely able to contain the eyeroll as I thank her and comment about how sad life would be without the piggy.

My foot is really griping by the time we get home.  (I broke it in four places in a nasty auto wreck last summer, and the two titanium pins and the healed breaks don't handle weather changes well.)

Fun?

I don't know that that's the adjective I'd choose.  Interesting, perhaps.  Insane.  An exercise in herding cats.

Fun?

Yeah, I'm still not seeing that.

However, it did serve to remind me of why it is that I usually run errands and shop alone.  It gives me precious "me" time, a chance to recharge, however brief.