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Pregnancy was a wonderful time for me. It was just the beginning. There was no other feeling that could compare to holding that tiny person in my arms and feel his heart beat as he slept. Babies grow so quickly and before I knew it, he was walking, talking, becoming independent and, at times, making everyday things a challenge for me.
One Friday afternoon, I took my two small boys to the grocery store. I was trying to get the weekly grocery shopping done before the weekend. My kids were 1 and 3 and I felt like I was doing pretty well staying home with them. We had a good routine. We had lots of time to play and I was figuring out how to get weekly errands done during the week so weekends could be family time. It was not usual that I would take both boys to the grocery store alone. But today, I was determined to accomplish my goal and cross this errand off my list.
I moved through the store as quickly as I could. I tried to read my list as my one year old tried to continuously grab it from me from the front of the cart where he was sitting. My three year old was walking with me and was happy to place every item that looked good to him into the cart. It was to “help Mommy” as he told me. Sweet, really. But helpful, no. Later that day, I would find all the groceries that we didn’t want but never made it back out of the cart.
I was almost finished shopping when my 3 year old announced that he “had to go!” Being in the potty training stage, I did what any Mom in my position would do. I darted for the nearest checkout. I began to franticly unload my items onto the belt as I realize that I had pushed the shopping trip too far. The meltdown had begun. My older son had now forgotten about the bathroom and discovered the bungee cord that they use to close the lanes. I could see him as I leaned into the cart, one hand on my 1 year old and the other used to empty the cart. He held the bungee as he walked backwards and let it go. BOING! Again. BOING! The younger one could see this and wanted to get out of the cart. So he began to scream loud enough so the people in the back of the store could hear.
It was Friday afternoon and the store was pretty empty but a line began to form behind me. Be calm, I kept telling myself. Why did I think that I could do this alone? Okay, talk your way out. “Please come here. Don’t do that. It is dangerous. Be a good listener.” Faster. Why can’t I go faster? And why don’t they have a bagger at this store that can help me unload while I attempt to control my children? I was so focused on getting the groceries out that I didn’t notice how unfriendly the cashier was. That was until I heard her over the loudspeaker calling for “Express Lane backup!”
I looked at her and whispered, “Am I in the express lane?” “Yes!” She scowled back. As the back up express lane casher tried to get around me to his cash register, a crabby looking older man who was in line behind me, spoke to him. He spoke loud enough for me and most of the line to hear. “EXCUSE ME! What does that sign say?! Express Lane, right! Fifteen items or less! Some people around hear should learn how to READ!” He glared at me while he held his fourteen Banquet frozen dinners.
I felt my ears burning as the bright red color climbed up my neck. So I accidentally got in the Express Lane, obviously with my hands full with both kids and this guy is going to give me a hard time? Are you kidding me? I looked him right in the face and said, “I’m sorry!” With no sympathy, he begins to scold me. “Oh yeah, yeah! I’m sure you are always sorry! Yeah, right!” He then mocks me with the song, “I’m sorry. So sorry.”
I wanted to tell him something that my kids shouldn’t have heard. I wanted to tell him that I knew of a better place that he could keep those frozen dinners. Instead, I turned to the line behind me, apologized for holding everyone up and began to cry. I hung my head, waiting for my bill total and the tears just streamed down my cheeks. My shoulders started to shake from trying to hold the cry in. Surprisingly, my crying didn’t even stop his rude comments. I couldn’t wait to run out of that store and it seemed to take FOREVER.
Amazingly enough, my children turned into little angels that stayed quiet while we waited to pay. Of course, there were things that didn’t scan and the casher had to call for price checks. I also had forgotten about the stack of coupons that I had given her at the beginning of the transaction. As she handed me the receipt, I could tell that she felt bad for me. Through my tears, I managed to squeak out, “I really am very sorry about the mistake.” And I left that store, embarrassed and defeated. Never to return. And we made it all the way home to get to the bathroom in time.
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