It was a glorious eighty degrees yesterday. I woke up in a good mood and promised the boys I would take them to the zoo. Grandma and Papaw decided to come along and we all had lots of fun looking at the animals. We watched the sea lions swim and they were amazed by how fast they went. I was soaking up our wonderful day out together.
It was 2:00 when we decided to leave. I knew it was too late for the boys to take a nap. We had missed the nap window but that was okay. I was trying to go with the flow.
Landon called out from the back seat that he wanted to go to the park. I was surprised because I figured they were tired but it was such a nice day that I didn’t want to waste it inside. So off we went to the park. We stayed for an hour. The boys were thirsty so I let them go into the gas station and pick out a drink. They picked sugary juice and I let them have it because I was trying to be nice.
I was thinking about the fact that we had nothing to eat for dinner. So I decided we should go to the store. Are you already thinking about how this story ends?
Overtired kids + sugar + contained in shopping cart = disaster
I have never in my years of parenting had a more horrible shopping experience. It started out fine. We renewed our Costco membership. The cart was big enough for both of them to sit in the front and we wandered around tasting some foods while shopping.
Then Landon wanted out of the cart. And then, of course, Brigham did. I gave in because I did not want tantrums in the store. Suddenly my kids were completely out of control. Running up and down the aisles, screaming at the top of their lungs. I turned my head for a second and Brigham had disappeared! I screamed his name three times before he came out from under the huge stock shelves. I told him that he had to get back in the cart and he started crying uncontrollably. I tried to get a hold of him to put him back in but he straightened his legs and every mom knows that you can’t get a kid in a cart unless he bends his legs. A nice man came over to ask if we needed any help. This was better than the people who were laughing when they walked past me. Yes, laughing. They were laughing at me.
So Brigham was screaming bloody murder and the whole store was staring. It was one of the worst tantrums I’ve seen. I was the mom who could not get control of her kids. I was the mom being judged by the other patrons of the store.
I tried to hurry and get things in the cart but I finally gave up and headed to check out. Brigham and Landon were running in front of me. Brigham fell down and half got run over by my cart and started crying again.
It was a nightmare.
The checkout lines were a mile long and the boys started running circles around me. I told them to stop. I told them to hold onto the cart. But they wouldn’t listen. They were grabbing other people’s groceries. Using potty words. Laying on the floor.
I turned around to grab Brigham and an older woman was pointing at us and whispering to her husband.
I bit my bottom lip to try not to cry.
When we got to the car I scolded them both but all they did was laugh at me. I’m not going to lie. I bawled while driving home. Here we were having such a blast at the zoo. I wanted to do something fun with them on my day off and they don’t even appreciate it. Not one bit.
Sometimes I feel so defeated. Sometimes I struggle so much at being their mother. I try to do right by them but they just don’t listen to me. And I feel like a failure.
I just want to scream, WHEN DOES THIS GET EASIER?!
But I should know by now that it doesn’t ever get easier. It just gets different.
I’m tired. I don’t always enjoy this motherhood gig. I don’t enjoy feeling like I’ve been run over by a truck when all I wanted to do was go into a store and buy something for dinner. Will there ever be a time when my kids will listen to me? Will they ever appreciate the things I do for them?
At the same time I know that my children’s behavior is a direct reflection on me. It was my fault that they were overtired. It was my fault that they had too much sugar. I didn’t really think about those things when we went into the store.
My kids aren’t the bad ones . . . I am.