An open letter to the lady at the grocery store
Today the kids and I ran to the grocery store after I picked them up from daycare. On days when I'm not working we always run our errands in the morning right before lunch because that is the time of day when everyone is on their best behavior. So when I made the decision to make a quick stop later in the day I knew that it was a bit risky, they would likely be a little wound up. But we're out of milk (vanilla soy, chocolate soy, and cow's milk - as its known at our house) and we needed a few other items, so I decided to take a chance.
We were doing pretty well, having avoided all of the specialty carts - the one with a car on the front, the little tiny ones I always end up pushing myself after the kids abandon them - and they were only a little bit squirrelly. Martin was doing his new thing, running just ahead of me so that he rounds the corner to the next aisle before I can get there, pretending to be really engaged in a can of soup when I get there. It's nerve wracking, really, my mind imagining that he's missing every time we round a corner.
When we reached the baking aisle I was kind of preoccupied, trying to keep their attention away from the cans of frosting and the jars of sprinkles they always beg to buy. I quickly grabbed a package of cupcake liners and gave them to Martin asking him to put them in the cart. He launched them toward the cart, underestimating his super strength and they flew right past the open basket and landed on the floor next to Sophie's feet. Wanting to be helpful she picked them up, right about the same time that Martin reached them for his second attempt. He couldn't pick them up with his hands because he was crawling on the floor, so he had no choice but to grab them with his mouth. And as my kids started fighting over it like two dogs with a chew toy, I felt really calm and said quietly, "We're in a store, I don't think that's the best way to get the cupcake liners into the cart." They responded, maybe surprised that they weren't in trouble, and stopped fighting long enough to put them into the cart. "Climb on up," I said and we started moving back down the aisle.
That's when I noticed you watching us, and you placed your hand on mine and said, "Oh, we've all been there. And you're all doing just fine." It was the nicest thing and I'm glad you were there to witness it all coming together. We don't always have the best behavior, but we're trying and I'm glad each day that it gets just a tiny bit easier.
See you in aisle five,
Jennie
We were doing pretty well, having avoided all of the specialty carts - the one with a car on the front, the little tiny ones I always end up pushing myself after the kids abandon them - and they were only a little bit squirrelly. Martin was doing his new thing, running just ahead of me so that he rounds the corner to the next aisle before I can get there, pretending to be really engaged in a can of soup when I get there. It's nerve wracking, really, my mind imagining that he's missing every time we round a corner.
When we reached the baking aisle I was kind of preoccupied, trying to keep their attention away from the cans of frosting and the jars of sprinkles they always beg to buy. I quickly grabbed a package of cupcake liners and gave them to Martin asking him to put them in the cart. He launched them toward the cart, underestimating his super strength and they flew right past the open basket and landed on the floor next to Sophie's feet. Wanting to be helpful she picked them up, right about the same time that Martin reached them for his second attempt. He couldn't pick them up with his hands because he was crawling on the floor, so he had no choice but to grab them with his mouth. And as my kids started fighting over it like two dogs with a chew toy, I felt really calm and said quietly, "We're in a store, I don't think that's the best way to get the cupcake liners into the cart." They responded, maybe surprised that they weren't in trouble, and stopped fighting long enough to put them into the cart. "Climb on up," I said and we started moving back down the aisle.
That's when I noticed you watching us, and you placed your hand on mine and said, "Oh, we've all been there. And you're all doing just fine." It was the nicest thing and I'm glad you were there to witness it all coming together. We don't always have the best behavior, but we're trying and I'm glad each day that it gets just a tiny bit easier.
See you in aisle five,
Jennie
I always try to at least SMILE at the Mom's in these moments in a store, reassure them they are fine, not being judged by anyone!
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I LOVE it when other people's kids act up in public. The baby screaming on the airplane? The kid crawling under the table in the restaurant? No problem. Makes me feel more secure about my own crazy kids. : )
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I always get the lady who tells me "If you don't get those kids under control now, just IMAGINE what they'll be like LATER." This because Grace, at 2, had her hood on. Inside the store. The horror!
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