Grocery shopping is THE MOST glamourous thing a single mom could do outside of going to the laundry mat on Friday night. Especially right after school when the kids are at their peak in whine mode. Nobody wants to be there, and everyone is letting everyone else know it. It interesting this particular time because I got a phonecall from Condition that was cut short because my little natives were restless. I smile with crush giddiness some of ya'll tease me about.
So on we go. One aisle down. One aisle up. I notice happy excited faces and waving hands. I see who the short humans are. They are the offspring of said Condition. I also notice that they quickly stop to observe the reactions between me and their mom. Thus ensues an uncomfortable conversation with the Condition's Ex. First is the uncomfortable "yes I know your children even though you don't know me". I told her my name. She instantly knew who we were. My mind kept racing...Did she know? Did he tell her? Did the kiddos tell her? Did any of you ladies tell her? Hmm...
After that nervous interaction I kept up the shopping, swallowing whatever silly feelings I might have felt. Towards the end one of the natives started to give in to her impatience.
At the checkout my lovely, angelic, sweet, kind, QUIET daughter proceeded to explain to me that she needed candy. (Damn the marketer who thought up candy placement in the checkout lane!) I replied that she already had a sucker. She was so insistant that the package of candy she held got ripped open in a wrestling match between me and her. So I paid for it, and offered it to the cashier, a young girl about 16. She offered to take it off the ticket instead. She obviously did not understand what my point was. Griffin did however, and he did not want the candy to go elsewhere. He suggested (rather snidely) that I should not let her have it until after she cleans her room. (the WORST room in the house mind you). My son, the genius!
Ahh. I need to learn wrestling moves from the professionals if I want to be a single mother of 2. I put the candy in my purse. We started to wrestle again. This time 2 aisles were watching the struggle. mano a mano. Hemmingway, you and your old man and old fish can eat your hearts out! No dirty little story of royal intrigue can compare! This is the stuff of legends!
Mom vs 4 year old in a struggle for the freedom to have rotten teeth!
People were obviously amused, especially when in the grips of the battle I managed to tell a boy cashiering behind me that this was "'birth control' for all you teenagers here". There were 4 working right there. Literally everyone in my aisle and the next aisle burst out into laughter.
And what was running in my head as I left with a screaming 4 yr old? The ONLY thing running in my head?
I hope to god, She did NOT see this!
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Out of the cracks in the sidewalk…
One of the advantages of being disorderly is that one is constantly making exciting discoveries. A. A. Milne
Out of the cracks in the sidewalk…
A just a few Goddesses...
enarda synopsis
- Enarda
- I'm an introspective giggler of the details, a cancer survivor, a single mom, and I like weeds that flower blue. I create in my garden and in my studio. Like all women, I am complex and carry baggage that's light as a feather. My life's theme is "Always look on the bright side of life". complete with whistle.
3 comments:
You need to activate the word feature that prevents spammers. It's worth it.
I think the grocery store is a hideous enough experience when I am NOT with children. I was thinking, while reading about your experience, "I wonder if the Conidition's ex is seeing this!!!" Apparently you had the same fear. I can talk at length about what it's like to know someone's children but not know her. It's freaky.
Well, in my experience, Condition has a great ex and they have a good relationship. I, on the other hand, have the ex from hell. He hung up on my twice yesterday when I wouldn't give him info about the Strapping Young Lad, then he left me a voicemail last night (after extracting said info from our daughter) and said, "Just a reminder that I'll be bringing Cleo home at 7am, so you might want to tell the Strapping Young Lad to put his pants on." (of course, he used the lad's real name).
I didn't make the lad put his pants on. I just kept my bedroom door shut instead. Damn the ex.
xoxxo
Try taking the same trip with a sullen 10 year-old, angry that she is no longer small enough to be treated like a baby, and ride in the cart, yet not old enough to push the cart herself, plus a lactose-intolerant 8 year-old who can and will burst into loud LOUD tears at the mere suggestion that I might buy 'regular' ice cream, and a hyper-active 4 year-old boy who spends the entire time pleading to be let out of the cart in order to engage me in a reluctant game of cat and mouse through the aisles. I have had store employees allow me to use the express lane in spite of my grocery-swollen cart -- just to get me out of the store.
I find some solace, however, in the knowledge that the 20-something girls (because they are far from being women) who throw me smug looks, believing that they will never become me, are only a few years away from a lovely dose of reality.
xoxooxox
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