So, I took on the supermarket today.

Have you ever taken both a toddler and a preschooler to the food store? Now add in all the last minute shoppers for the coming holiday, a ton of great deals on processed food, and it being 12 noon (an half hour before lunch). Oh, and lucky me, I arrived just as the local retirement community shuttle was dropping off their clientele. I swear, I can’t even make this stuff up.

So here I am entertaining Bugga with all my ramblings of the interesting items I am swiftly plucking from the shelves, (you will never appreciate the entertainment value of a kiwi until you have a 3-year-old) and supplying a miserable, molar growing, shell of my Handsome with water and every toy I have at my disposal, and I have to pee. Are you kidding me, Bladder? I’ve literally been in this store for five minutes. Peeing is not an option. So in true Mom of the Year (MOTY) style, I squeeze my legs, pray to the potty gods, and muster on, trying to remember the last few items on the list that Handsome had apparently deemed his chew toy a minute ago.

Anyway, so here I am gathering the canned goods for our Church baby-985942_1280program (I’m looking for ways to make up last week’s tantrum riddled service to the parishioners, ladies) and Handsome is in no way quietly telling me he is no longer having the food trip. I do a
quick glance of the cart, scan my watch. As I had expected, it had been ten whole minutes of semi-blissful shopping. I had to reach for the emergency, I need five more minutes before you blow your gasket, everyone is watching and I want a hole to open up and drag me down, stash–the lollipop. Only, I still needed a lot more time from that freakin’ life saver.

Of course Bugga also had to have one, we wouldn’t want to slight him of anything, and so began a few minutes of quiet, albeit sticky, shopping.

Then, Handsome dropped his pop, needed a new one immediately, and this set off the water works of a preschool. The irrational, hiccupping, my-life-just-ended, sobbing. How dare his brother receive a green pop, and he not also be given one–regardless of the fact that 30 seconds ago he was sucking on that thing with pure excitement, it was now poison.

Remember when I told you the Golden-agers where shopping with me today? This tantrum, that I was quickly trying to defuse and ignore, was like a homing beacon, and I was the horrible Mommy that just didn’t appreciate all this wonderful time that was so quickly passing me by. As each octogenarian walked by cooing my children and awwing me, I lost a bit more of my cool and the need to end this disastrous shopping trip was imminent.

We developed the sharing game, and the two swapped spit with pops until Handsome, thank god, became interested in the kiwi (which is now squished beyond use) and left Bugga to enjoy his new pop; me having lost the battle, but having won a quiet remainder of a shopping trip.

I’m not so sure why it is human nature to want to offer a criticizing word, or a tad of advice, or a sympathizing nod of the head when we see someone in the thick of a situation.  I suppose we inherently want to interject, but in these moments, in my moment, unless someone had a magic wand to wish my shopping done and me in my house during nap time, I really just wish everyone would have ignored us, as I was desperately trying to. I’m not sure anyone at the market wanted to hand me my MOTY award today, in fact I’m sure some placed me in the lowest tier, but, I did realize that sometimes to get the job done, you don’t have to win, you just need to survive.  And this Ma got everything on her list (well the part that wasn’t eaten, anyway).

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