I've always been discouraged- maybe even appalled- by short-tempered, irritated mothers in grocery stores. It seems difficult, in fact, to find a patient, happy mother in any given grocery run. I've always found it hard to watch these parents talk to their children the way they do, always snapping at them, constantly telling them "no" instead of using tools of distraction, conversation, or creative play (why not have your kid see how many green foods he can find, or what kinds of foods come in circles, or how many animals are pictured on the banners handing overhead?) These mothers seemed so unkind to their kids. It's no wonder they were dismayed at their kids' attitudes when they had crappy ones of their own.
AaaaaaaandthenIbecameamother. What is it about grocery stores that make kids go absolutely bonkers? My kids are more stimulated at Target than at the zoo. I try to do most of my shopping on my own, when Michael watches the kids for a while- partly to get a break, and partly because a trip out for food with kids in tow is more challenging than getting them to eat pickled herring.
Lately, the 40-below windchills and 10 hours of sunlight a day have forced us to stay indoors a few weeks too long, and my whining about the Minnesota hibernation somehow hasn't worked to magically make 80 degrees and a swimming pool appear on my doorstep. So I'm trying to be creative about places we can go, especially in the evenings when the sun and all hope in the world seems to set around 5pm. Today, my creative solution, against all wisdom and previous experience, was to take the boys with me to get my groceries. I carefully packed the diaper bag with ammunition of Cheese-Its, sippy cups, raisins, and toys, and set out their winter gear in plain sight to make the getting-ready part easy. The boys were excited for their "adventure" (see creative play, above).
They were yelling and screaming before I even started the car.
In Target, I was reminded that kids are never ever ever able to walk next to the cart in a normal kind of way. Oliver asks every time to sit inside the cart. No, not the part where Charlie sits; Oliver wants to sit where the groceries go. Because that would make sense. Then he whines and pouts, every time, even though the answer is always the same. He then insists on hanging on to the end of the cart, which I'm opposed to but this avoids half of the expected tantrums so I let him. He enjoys this for three minutes before he gets off, wanders aimlessly back and forth somewhere in the vicinity of the front of the cart in perfect position to getting run over. It doesn't matter how many times I ask him to walk next to me, he always ends up spinning in circles ahead the cart inches from the wheels.
Everything I grab Charlie wants to
And here I am, among all of the other mothers, hissing out pointless, ineffective threats, ("Oliver, if you do that one more time..."), and giving them free cookies from the bakery just to keep them quiet. Yes, in addition to the Cheese-Its, which may have been after a snack of a pudding cup at home. My clenched jaw and loud sighs made me just like those moms I used to judge.
I had a near-successful grocery run a few months back at Sam's Club when I told the boys that they could get an Icee if they went with me. They were more than happy to oblige. Things were going well; I discovered they could both fit next to each other in the same sitting area of the cart, and I was ready for a happy trip through Sam's, my boys entranced with liquid sugar. But then it all threatened to crash when I saw the lids on the cups: they had huge openings in the top, perhaps to allow the extra electric-red foam bubble up to the top. Charlie was 18 months old. There was no way this Icee was staying in its cup.
In aisle four, I was proven correct. Half of a cherry Icee lay on the floor. And this prepared Mom? Forgot to grab napkins. No problem, I had a diaper bag, right? I always carried Kleenex or napkins in there. Oh wait, no; no, apparently not always. Panicked that someone would see the results of my obvious stupidity in giving my toddler an Icee with a half-open top, I grabbed a diaper, opened it up, and began to blot. In case anyone was wondering, Pampers really are as absorbent as they claim. I left the aisle with no trace of the beverage, though I'm sure a lot of shoppers that day wondered why the bottoms of their shoes were so sticky aisle 5 and beyond.
Yes, mothers in grocery stores can be much nicer to their children, and I am, without a doubt, one of them. Icees aren't the answer to a happy outing. Neither are bungee cords or cookies. Perhaps I will choose to be happier with winter hibernation, and next time, order pizza. Every. Night. Of the week.
you are such a great person and mother- and so real- that's what I love about you!!!
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