Yesterday, I went to the grocery store without my kids. This is not a common occurrence, but I happened to have a few extra minutes between school and picking up my son, and since I hadn't been to the grocery store in about a month and we'd been living on jars of spaghetti sauce and canned green beans, I eagerly jumped at the opportunity. I blissfully (but not too blissfully. because I was still on a deadline), waltzed through the doors of the grocery store, a lilt in my step and joy in my heart. Woo-hoo! Milk and bread! It's the little things, truly.
I walked into the store at the same time as another mother. As I was pulling into the parking lot, I had seen her walking up the hill to the store with her three children in tow, skipping happily along (the children were skipping. The mother was gently encouraging them not to fall off the curb into traffic.) They were probably all younger than 6; one maybe 2 or 3 and the other two looked closer in age, maybe 5 and 6, if that. I noticed her and remembered smiling because they all looked pretty happy. Then, she went to the carts and uttered words that would never in a zillion years come out of my mouth.
"Make sure you get the one that has the two seated car on the front so both you and your sister can ride in it."
Listen, I could do a whole essay on why the built in toy car on the front of the carts at the grocery store is a product of the devil, but I don't have that kind of time. Suffice it to say, this mom was a much nicer mom than I am. Typically, the first words out of my mouth are "UUGGGHHH. NOT THAT ONE.! *under my breath* who was the sadist who left that out in the open where my kids can see it? What kind of monster doesn't hide it behind all the other carts? I wonder if I ran one over in the parking lot if they would replace it. Because that would be a public service."
She popped the littlest one in the top of the cart and I began meandering through the produce section. We hadn't been in the store 5 minutes when the peaceful sound of muzak was interrupted by a blood curdling scream. Her son had decided that he did not, in fact, want to share the car with his sister. He wanted the car all to himself and he was trying to push her out of the car, yelling and kicking the side of the car while his mother tried to extricate him before he did any damage. The rest of the time they spent in the store amounted to short periods of silence pattered with 2 minute exchanges like this one:
"MOMMMMY! I DON'T WANT TO! ARRRRGHH!!!!"
"You are going straight to bed when we get home. Do you hear me? Straight to bed!"
"I HATE YOU!! I HATE YOU!!"
"No TV, no playing. Straight to bed. Now stop it!"
*sobbing*
Or
"I said, 'no'. You cannot have a candy bar."
"BUT I WANT IT NOW!! YOU'RE THE WORST MOM EVER AND I HATE YOOOUUUU!!"
I'm not writing this to shame this mother. In fact, I'm pretty sure that 85% of her threats were directly due to the fact that she was mortified by the behavior of her child and me shaming her on a blog that almost no one reads is completely unnecessary. Some older woman, who clearly has forgotten what having kids is like (or is maybe just a crabby old witch), noted to her husband in about as contemptuous of a tone as you can imagine, "Just listen to that child. That mother needs to do something about him!"
To which I wanted to reply, "Oh wise and wonderful creature! Bequeath upon us lowly mortals your gifts! Here, taketh the child and calm him with your merciful powers of patience and sternness. We shall bask in awe at your benevolent greatness!" and then laugh hysterically as the child screamed in her face that she was a poopy head.
Unfortunately, not all dreams can come true. All I really wanted to do was give this poor mother some encouragement, so she knew that not everyone was judging her and that she was doing everything just fine; however, every time I looked at her she avoided eye contact as if to say, "Oh God, please don't look at us. Just walk away. Walk away!"
So, in her honor, and for all the other mothers out there who have been through the same thing, probably this week, maybe earlier today, I want to acknowledge all the things she did RIGHT while her child was publicly humiliating her.
She walked three children to the store. That means they were getting fresh air and exercise, with the added benefit of spending time with their mother and helping run errands.
She voluntarily picked the demon cart, I imagine because she loves her kids and not because she hates herself.
She didn't scream at her kids or otherwise lose her mind. She maintained a pretty even keel, even if she was threatening to put her child to bed in the middle of the afternoon.
She didn't leave them in the cart and walk away, pretending she didn't know whose children they were. "What? Oh, I don't know who those unruly brats belong to. If I were the manager, I'd kick them out." She took credit for them, even when they were being horrible to her and to each other. That's the actual definition of unconditional love.
She didn't take out her frustration on an innocent stranger or yell at the cashier because her pickles rang up the wrong price. Not that I have ever done that.....
She finished her shopping without visibly having a mental or emotional breakdown.
She didn't bribe them to shut up by caving and buying them candy, which basically makes her superwoman.
Mother at the grocery store, I salute you.
I walked into the store at the same time as another mother. As I was pulling into the parking lot, I had seen her walking up the hill to the store with her three children in tow, skipping happily along (the children were skipping. The mother was gently encouraging them not to fall off the curb into traffic.) They were probably all younger than 6; one maybe 2 or 3 and the other two looked closer in age, maybe 5 and 6, if that. I noticed her and remembered smiling because they all looked pretty happy. Then, she went to the carts and uttered words that would never in a zillion years come out of my mouth.
"Make sure you get the one that has the two seated car on the front so both you and your sister can ride in it."
Listen, I could do a whole essay on why the built in toy car on the front of the carts at the grocery store is a product of the devil, but I don't have that kind of time. Suffice it to say, this mom was a much nicer mom than I am. Typically, the first words out of my mouth are "UUGGGHHH. NOT THAT ONE.! *under my breath* who was the sadist who left that out in the open where my kids can see it? What kind of monster doesn't hide it behind all the other carts? I wonder if I ran one over in the parking lot if they would replace it. Because that would be a public service."
She popped the littlest one in the top of the cart and I began meandering through the produce section. We hadn't been in the store 5 minutes when the peaceful sound of muzak was interrupted by a blood curdling scream. Her son had decided that he did not, in fact, want to share the car with his sister. He wanted the car all to himself and he was trying to push her out of the car, yelling and kicking the side of the car while his mother tried to extricate him before he did any damage. The rest of the time they spent in the store amounted to short periods of silence pattered with 2 minute exchanges like this one:
"MOMMMMY! I DON'T WANT TO! ARRRRGHH!!!!"
"You are going straight to bed when we get home. Do you hear me? Straight to bed!"
"I HATE YOU!! I HATE YOU!!"
"No TV, no playing. Straight to bed. Now stop it!"
*sobbing*
Or
"I said, 'no'. You cannot have a candy bar."
"BUT I WANT IT NOW!! YOU'RE THE WORST MOM EVER AND I HATE YOOOUUUU!!"
I'm not writing this to shame this mother. In fact, I'm pretty sure that 85% of her threats were directly due to the fact that she was mortified by the behavior of her child and me shaming her on a blog that almost no one reads is completely unnecessary. Some older woman, who clearly has forgotten what having kids is like (or is maybe just a crabby old witch), noted to her husband in about as contemptuous of a tone as you can imagine, "Just listen to that child. That mother needs to do something about him!"
To which I wanted to reply, "Oh wise and wonderful creature! Bequeath upon us lowly mortals your gifts! Here, taketh the child and calm him with your merciful powers of patience and sternness. We shall bask in awe at your benevolent greatness!" and then laugh hysterically as the child screamed in her face that she was a poopy head.
Unfortunately, not all dreams can come true. All I really wanted to do was give this poor mother some encouragement, so she knew that not everyone was judging her and that she was doing everything just fine; however, every time I looked at her she avoided eye contact as if to say, "Oh God, please don't look at us. Just walk away. Walk away!"
So, in her honor, and for all the other mothers out there who have been through the same thing, probably this week, maybe earlier today, I want to acknowledge all the things she did RIGHT while her child was publicly humiliating her.
She walked three children to the store. That means they were getting fresh air and exercise, with the added benefit of spending time with their mother and helping run errands.
She voluntarily picked the demon cart, I imagine because she loves her kids and not because she hates herself.
She didn't scream at her kids or otherwise lose her mind. She maintained a pretty even keel, even if she was threatening to put her child to bed in the middle of the afternoon.
She didn't leave them in the cart and walk away, pretending she didn't know whose children they were. "What? Oh, I don't know who those unruly brats belong to. If I were the manager, I'd kick them out." She took credit for them, even when they were being horrible to her and to each other. That's the actual definition of unconditional love.
She didn't take out her frustration on an innocent stranger or yell at the cashier because her pickles rang up the wrong price. Not that I have ever done that.....
She finished her shopping without visibly having a mental or emotional breakdown.
She didn't bribe them to shut up by caving and buying them candy, which basically makes her superwoman.
Mother at the grocery store, I salute you.
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