If you read my blog, you'll start to notice that the grocery store is a source of parental angst and revelation for me. Usually, my parenting crises happen here and upon further reflection at home (once my stress-induced, elevated hearbeat has returned to normal and I can breathe evenly again) I take stock of what happened so as not to experience it ever again. After weekly trial and error, we have a routine down: (1) get grocery cart; (2) put kids in cart; (3) get to the bakery for the free kid's cookies as quickly as possible. If I don't have a big shop, the giant cookies will last to the meat aisle, which is my last stop, where I will begin earnestly and desperately trying to bribe the kids with promises of treats if we can get home in peace.
Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't.
The other day, instead of the giant cookies, the bakery was handing out mini glazed donuts. This wouldn't be that big of a deal, except my grocery routine is a finely honed series of steps which doesn't handle minor disturbances well. If you are a parent, you probably noticed a key word that should raise red flags: mini. Yes, the mini donuts were consumed in a mere two minutes. Although I always have extra snacks in our bag, it just so happened that on this particular day, I forgot. Of course.
By the time we reached the meat aisle, Aida and Claire were embattled in a full scale war over who would hold the bag of goldfish crackers, while I was just about running, trying to get out of the store as quickly as possible. If you are not a parent or ever shop without your children and witness such a spectacle, please, just smile a empathetic smile of solidarity and be on your way. Resist the urge to give unsolicited advice. Please.
On this day, when the end was in sight and Aida was whimpering and Claire was screaming because I took the bag of goldfish away, an elderly woman stopped my cart. That's right - she reached out her scrawny, wrinkly, and surprisingly strong arms and physically grabbed ahold of the end of my cart, stopping it in its tracks. And me. And my wailing children. I must have looked completely shocked, but then thought, "she is an elderly woman. Perhaps she needs help. Maybe she oblivious to the fact that if I don't get out of here soon, I will also be wailing."
So, I tried my best to mask the mix of desperation and iritation of my face and kindly asked, "May I help you?"
"No, but it looks like you could use some help," she answered. "You shouldn't let your children act like this in a public place."
"Excuse me?" I answered in shock.
"Yes. You need to show them who's boss. You young mothers now-a-days, don't know a thing about discipline," she replied.
She then tried to tell me how to discipline my children, but I cut her off with a, "I'm sorry you feel that way," and made my way directly to the check-out, forgetting the ground beef that was still on my list. Still fuming and replaying the incident in my head, I did not notcie the woman behind my peering into my cart and assessing its contents.
"Excuse me," she said.
Again, I plastered a smile on my face and turned around. "Yes?" I answered.
She picked up the aforementioned package of goldfish crackers. "You really shouldn't be feeding that to your children. Have you ever read the ingredients list?"
You have got be joking.
I stared at her, completely at a loss for words, took the goldfish from her hands, placed it on the conveyer belt and muttered "We love goldfish." (Actually, I hate goldfish. But Aida and Claire love them and they're the perfect snack for packing in the diaper bag, when you remember to bring them.). Then, the girls saw the goldfish again and started crying and reaching for them.
I must have looked like I was about to lose it because the sweet, young, pretty check-out girl offered, "Did you know that we hand out free cookies to kids in the bakery?"
