The looks I get at the grocery store match up neatly with the life spectrum. If you are looking at me and are older and/or a parent, you smile at me with pity and comradeship. If you are younger and are carrying a basket (a basket!) full of cheeses and wine while talking on your cell phone, you raise your eyebrows at me in disapproval. You twenty-something yuppies in your pre-24 American cheese product slices stage just simply can't relate to the likes of me. Perhaps you fear becoming me. Well, keep drinking that wine on date night, accept that proposal, and before you know it- YOU WILL BE ME. Only not as skinny.
Even though it's a disaster every single time, I still insist on doing my grocery shopping during the week with both kids. Sure, I could eat up my free time on the weekends with getting the nuggets or go at ten at night like some lunatic, but no. If I'm a stay at home mom, then I'm doing this during the "work week," as it were, and I'm hoping EVERY SINGLE TIME that somehow, this week will turn out better. And yet, I know in advance, before even pulling into the store parking lot, how it will go.
- Andy will insist on getting the cart with the car attached to the front, and I will cave in.
- The baby carrier doesn't fit as well on those carts for some reason since clearly the car carts were designed by a childless sadist, and so Alex will be at an uncomfortable angle literally ready to slide out of his seat the entire time.
- Andy will ride happily in the car part for about three minutes, cheerfully calling out "Beep Beep!" in such a contented manner that he will FOOL ME into thinking that maybe THIS TIME will be different.
- Three minutes and one second in, and Andy's declaring, "Andy WALK!" while jumping out of the moving cart.
- Three minutes and two seconds in, and I'm pulling out my not so secret weapon, a packet of fruit snacks, to bribe him into staying put for another thirty seconds. My secret weapon is, of course, filled with sugar, so like any good secret weapon in literature or film, totally backfires on me, as he enters hyper-child stage at precisely four minutes into our trip, when I have only managed to fill the cart with three bananas and one bag of lettuce. Man cannot sustain himself on bananas and lettuce only. We power on.
- Alex starts fussing, since he's just about ready to fall out onto the floor. I make adjustments, stick his binky in his mouth, and whisper a hasty apology as I notice Andy taking a bite out of a pear.
- Andy gets his first time out of the shopping trip. This kid is not fazed by time outs in the store. He sits on the floor amongst the Jello boxes and instant rice just like he would at home while I pretend to ignore him in true time out fashion, looking over at him only when I hear him call out "Hello!" to a passing stranger, just to make sure that passing stranger doesn't look like a pedophile.
- This is about the time Alex takes a crap, and I tell myself that he's just going to have to wait until we're home for a change. I'm. So. Sorry. Alex.
- Andy's out of his first time out, and then he's off and running towards the juice aisle yelling, "Bye Bye Mommy!"
- I track down Andy and give him a stern talking to. He seems to understand.
- Then we're getting down to serious shopping. Andy's tossing various items into the shopping cart and I'm trying my best to toss the items right back out. Organic, gluten free, all-natural $4.99 Apple Crisps? No, Andy. We're a Pringles family. Generic Pringles. Safeway-ingles.
- I give Andy another time out due to touching all the food too much. I try to tell myself that the smell wafting out of Alex's diaper could be a lot worse.
- After the second time out, Andy's no longer interested in shopping and will spend a few minutes on the floor of the yogurt aisle sobbing that he wants to go home. After I manage to console him, he stands up, looks at me with his sad dark eyes and proclaims, "Uppies." "Andy," I say, "You can either walk or sit in the cart, but I cannot carry you."
- Fast forward two minutes later when I am one-handedly pushing the shopping cart with the car attached with the infant carrier precariously balanced over the seat section while holding my two year old who has started also demanding more fruit snacks. Which he'd prefer to eat while being held.
- After about forty minutes, we are shoving our way through the check out lane, where Andy proudly hands over his Matchbox car to the cashier WHICH I AM BUYING HIM FOR "BEING GOOD."
- After getting both kids and all the food in the car, I spend the ten minute ride home lecturing Andy on everything that went wrong while he gives vague replies, which I only semi-hear over the sound of Alex wailing for a little attention and a clean diaper.
Today was particularly bad. I was sweating right through all my clothes while Andy created scene after scene and I did my best to try and discipline/ calm him down while also getting my shopping done as quickly as possible. A slightly older woman stopped me in the frozen foods aisle, where Andy had collapsed next to the ice cream and started throwing a tantrum. "He's cute," she told me. "I know he's being naughty- but he's such a cute little boy."
I smiled tightly at her in response, mumbled something to the tune of "I know," and went to retrieve my kid, who I had to carry for the rest of the outing.
So, shopping is not always great. Oh, it's hellish. But tonight, after both boys are asleep and it's easy to imagine that I'm doing a great job at this parenting thing, I wonder if maybe that older woman had grown kids or teenagers and saw something wistful in Andy's tantrum. Like maybe she actually missed these days I'm in, with these two little guys, who can be so very naughty and difficult but also are ever so cute- and maybe she was trying to tell me something.
Or maybe she just wanted me to move my damn kid so she could get into the freezer case without stepping on him.
No comments:
Post a Comment