I can't help but think that taking my kids to Trader Joe's after a long day at daycare falls into the Worst Idea Ever category. Really. I had reservations going into it, a strong feeling in my gut. A smarter woman may have just brought her exhausted children straight home and called it a day. But no. I just had to have fresh blueberries and another box of gluten free Gorilla Munch cereal.
If you've ever been to a Trader Joe's, you know that some of their stores cater to kids. The one we go to in Burlington, Mass. features little kids shopping carts and a play area with a bus that my 18 month old goes crazy for. The first time we discovered both of these items we were all very excited. Shopping could now be more than just a chore, I thought, but a playful experience for all of us! Ah, the good times we would have together, with E pushing around his little cart and J being a perfect angel just sitting and smiling in the front seat of my shopping cart, enjoying the ride. I think this actually happened. Once.
Of course, this was not at all what happened last night. Last night we had a coup d'etat . Instead of sitting peacefully in mommy's cart, j insisted on driving his own cart. Not good. At 19 months old, most kids do not have great cart control and his kept crashing into things (fortunately no people) including a large box of clementines, which then went scattering in various directions across the floor. Perhaps it's important to note here that I am not one who likes being the center of attention. I'm perfectly happy to be all but invisible at the grocery store, or anywhere, for that matter. But now, with one child screaming and clementines rolling like pool balls just after a break, all eyes were on me.
"Let's do this quickly, guys," I whispered to my children. I began literally racing around the store, grabbing milk, yogurt, raisins, coffee (I highly recommend Trader Joe's coffee, by the way, if you're looking for a new brand). Then we hit the aisle with the school bus. To understand what is so wonderful about this bus, you must understand that it is open on one end so children can sit inside and play driver. On the other side, where the hood would be, is a train table. Even I have to admit, that's pretty cool. And if the bus wasn't enough, the folks at Trader Joe's had gone and added a play kitchen complete with fake stove and sink to the area. Witnessing my boys stumble upon this combination of bus and now new play kitchen was akin to seeing two weary travelers spot the ocean after walking miles through the desert. Pure joy.
"Five minutes," I said, and let them loose.
But five minutes turned into ten and it was now 7pm. "Two more minutes," I announced, hovering over the bus.
"But I don't want to go home," E whined.
"Yes, but we have to…daddy is waiting for us. It's getting late."
When their two minutes were up, no one was coming home without a fight. J tried to steal a fake telephone, and when I made him put it down, E picked it up.
"You can't take that," I said. "Please put it back."
"Why?" He asked.
"Because it's not yours."
"But I waaaaaant it."
"Sorry, but it's got to go back."
This is when he took off, running around the store with the phone in his hand. I put J in the cart with my shopping bags and told E we were going to leave without him. Now, I don't know if you're "allowed" to do that or not, but it's a threat that almost always seems to work. Of course I would never really leave without him, but as long as he thinks I would, that's all that matters.
As I got closer to the store exit, E inched toward me, but still refused to leave or put down the telephone he was trying to steal. I knew he was challenging me. I swooped him up and held him like a football under my arm (someone recommended this to me) but he squirmed and screamed so much that I had to put him down. Now everyone on the checkout line was staring at us, but fortunately most were women and I read sympathy in their collective gaze.
"We're leaving now," I said again, this time going so far as to walk out the front door. He followed, but was still screaming, nearly hyperventilating, for most of the ride home.
I cannot tell you how many times, as a mother, I've thought 'now this is a really bad idea'…yet done it anyway. Some days parenting feels like nothing more than an endless stream of really bad ideas, going back to the very idea to even become a parent. Or perhaps I'm just blowing a few bad occasions out of proportion. I think of a class I went to recently on parenting. The instructor talked quite a bit about temperaments, and how life with kids will run a whole lot smoother if you bend your own temperament to accommodate theirs (since their moods and temperaments, as all mothers know, are a lot less flexible). I interpret this to mean despite what you, the parent, wants to do, try to tune into your child's mood, and what they want or even more importantly need to do, including go home and go to sleep. I didn't think much of it at time she pointed it out, but perhaps it's not such a bad idea.
