in a land a few exits away lies a magical place called Trader Joes. in this story Mommy, MC and Hazel begin a journey to get the two missing ingredients to the dinner that they have already invited guests over to partake of. (insert my mother’s moan as I end a sentence with a preposition- feel free to call her and tell her how there aren’t even right answers in school anymore, just “whatever you think is best and comes from your heart”, then watch her keel over as if she had had a straight-up gluten cupcake). okee dokee, so my first awesome decision showing my keen ability in parenting skills on-the-fly comes when I say “hey, we are getting sugar and cornbread mix, which are in the same aisle, which is about 6 yards from the front door, so we don’t even need to get a cart.” Dum dee dum dum. Yup, so me and my fabulously “spirited” children head on over to that 6 yard point when, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but two fiesty redheads sprinting in opposite directions: the younger fleeing to a land she dubbed “FIIIINNNNDDDDDD SSSQQQUUUIIIIRRRRRRREEEELLLLLL” and the elder heading straight for the sample table where she is about to down some juice and chocolate chip cookies. Thanks Satan- oh, I mean Trader Joes- for having straight sugar I.V.s at a reachable level so that my super-calm children can become even more chillaxed. At this point I channel my inner “calm mom”, the one who knows that I do not want to be the woman with the children sprinting through a grocery store being screamed at by their psychotic sounding mom and I say…. “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! HAZEL… HAZEL… HAZEL!!!!!! STOP THAT… 1…2…3… OK HERE I COME!” I run to get Hazel. MC, who is now laying prostrate in a sugar coma singing an original song about how only the juice loves her and the cookies are the ones who have been there for her when she needed someone, can wait. After grabbing the girls, we pass flower bouquets to each and every glaring bystander whose inside voice I can audibly hear saying “i just came for some wine, fabulous mediterranean hummus and fancy cheeses. Can’t that woman keep her offspring under control?”.
The answer is no.
And this is where I think the real wisdom in parenting comes. My girls are awesome. They are 100% whatever they are. They are 100% happy or 100% sad and they make it really easy to tell the difference. My job? To love them. Yes, to show them right from wrong, and to teach them to read and respect their elders and be super-creative geniuses, but mostly just to be there and to care.
that should be the end. it is not. I gave up as they sprinted out of line in opposite directions once more and thought “I am already checking out, how much damage can they really do?” you should know the next thing that I heard was BEEP BEEP BEEP. Yup, the sound of the motorized cart available for those who have trouble walking. I looked up and saw them take off, waving to their admirers and sealing my nomination for best parent EVER.