When my two oldest kids were really small, people mistook them for twins. They looked like twins and they acted like twins. I thought I had it rough, dragging them to the store and trying to negotiate them and the mounds of food that I (thought we) needed. Sometimes, we even had to have two carts. It was insane.
I've learned that simplicity is a beautiful word. I cannot count the number of times I have gone to the store with kids in tow (and it doesn't matter the age...this happens no matter which kid, or which combination of children, are with me), because I just wanted a gallon of milk, and ended up bringing half the store home with me. Then I get home and lug all of that stuff into the house and set it on the counter and I think, how did a gallon of milk turn into this?
Perhaps it's because I lack the ability to say "no". Or perhaps it's just easier to say "yes" (yeah, I know, I'm splitting hairs, whatevs). Maybe it's because when my teenage son shows up at the cart with a bag of chips and another bag of Reese's minis, my scheming brain starts plotting all the ways I can bum a snack off of him (I'm your mother, I carried you for almost nine months, I bought it anyway, or the ever famous and iron clad Because I Said So.)
One may ask,
Why do I need to go there? Why do I need to buy all this stuff? Have we got a bag of popcorn? A frozen pizza? Is there water coming out of the kitchen sink? What is this trip even for?
I'll tell you what it's for. I don't go to the store because we need a ton of groceries anymore. I go to the store because I need to get out of the house. I don't have a couple of almost-twins sitting in a buggy laden with goodies anymore, but sometimes, around ten at night or so (when the kids are usually in bed and no one will clamor to go with me), I feel the sudden urge to leave the house because we desperately need Q-tips.
Then I come home with my chocolate bar and my copy of Psychology Today or Southern Living and everyone is happy because mama is. The end.
No comments:
Post a Comment