Grocery Shopping Fiasco

Big Man during a fit

I am no stranger to fits. After having five kids fits are part of my norm. Get up. Listen to fit. Get dressed. Listen to someone else throw a fit.  Make breakfast.  Listen to a fit about breakfast.

Fits are what I do.

But, I have to draw the line somewhere. After all, not every one is so used to the whining and crying that they barely even hear it anymore.

As a matter of fact, the act of a child hitting full-blown fit status can send many people in to such a bad mood that they feel it is his or her duty to approach the parent of the tiny ball of rage and offer advice, shoot dirty looks, or make comments about how his or her child would never behave that way in public! A reaction I may have has as well, before I had children and realized that there isn’t a darn thing I can do to prevent a fit.

I guess people think that makes it all better. You know, keeping your melt downs at home and out of the public eye.  Oh wait, perhaps these people have fit free children.  I have heard of those kinds of kids, but in all honesty I have never met one.  I have met people who, in reaction to a tantrum, say, “he never does this,” or, “oh my, she must be reacting to the other kids here because this is not her typical behaviour!”  Sure, I believe you. NOT!

Anyway. I do fits.

Apparently, taking two hungry children to the grocery store to help me pick out our dinner was an invitation for trouble. But, I am a sucker for those big blue eyes.  Every time I swear I will not take them to the store with me again, but in the moments before I leave they ask me and I agree. In retrospect, the trouble was a result of  the combination of children I decided to take. 

You see, with five children you have to expect a range of personalities. Just like adults, some children can adapt easily to any situation. Whereas, others seem to clash with most situations outside the home.

I took my eight year old drama queen, and I took my three-year old son.

Bad idea!

Upon entering the store my son took off for the exit on the opposite side of the building. I ran after him leaving my cart, purse, and daughter behind. Following me were worried associates shouting “grab him!” Great. Way to make an entrance.

Once I had my son safely on my hip, I start shopping. I didn’t count this as a total bad trip yet. Let me repeat, yet. As we go down the aisles my son decides to pick at my very sunburned shoulders probably knowing I would eventually give in to the combination of whining and pain and set him down. Set him down I did. He then decided to “help” me push the cart. He stopped when I went. He swerved at other patrons. He went when I stopped.

Back on the hip! My three-year old is pushing 40 pounds. He looks thin, but that’s when you think he is a four-year old. He is huge! He wears size 4/5 clothes and he just turned three in June. Carrying him is no picnic for either of us.

Struggling to push the cart toward the liquid coffee creamer I am irritated to find a man blocking the entire case housing my desired item. So I stand and wait. Unfortunately, I think the store set me up because they had a rack of books right there. My son starts freaking out wanting a book. He’s three so he doesn’t get that we are broke, and he is too destructive to be trusted with this book throughout the store. So, my daughter decides to “help” by pulling the books down so that he could see them better. Now my son is sobbing loudly. And this guy is still blocking the creamer.

Sure, I could have asked him if I could squeeze in to make m selection, but really how long does it take to pick out creamer? A long f-ing time apparently.

Finally, the guy moves and I push my cart toward the register. My son is still crying, and now my daughter is making a case for them getting gum out of the machines at the exit.

Really?!

So, now I have my son in the cart playing with an app on my phone (I really don’t want to hear about how the phone is going to give him cancer right now) and I am waiting patiently in line. My daughter is now trying to get the phone from my son so she can have a try. You know, when I am at this point fair flies out the window. She didn’t need a turn, and I wasn’t about to listen to him again. I wanted out of the store.

At long last I am at the register and this ordeal is almost over when my son decides this app is “stupid” (thanks 13-year-old for the vocabulary word of the week) and throws my phone at the register parallel to ours where the battery cover flies in one direction, the battery goes another, and the phone another still. You’ve got to be kidding.

So after no less than 20 “I’m sorries” directed at all of those people unlucky enough to be in our wake I got out of the store. The kids did not get gum, and two children are banned from going to the grocery store with me ever again.

Or at least until next time.

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