I was told by an old man in a yellow Polo not to have a 3rd child.
Are you someone who has children and doesn’t walk around looking like she just came in last place in a mud run towing a grocery cart full of unnecessities?
I make this look difficult.
I am forever in awe (and confusion) of those who can manage children, maintain knowledge of the whereabouts of their wallet, carry one bag and possession of their coupons.
This morning I left the house with my children, one with his juice and snack and the other forced to hold her own bottle on a trip to Target because, let’s face it, it’s the one stop shop all mothers rely on.
I made it a mile and a half and had to turn around to get the Similac coupons I left on the table. They’re $5 off!
When we finally arrived, my baby had fallen asleep so I needed to keep her in her baby carrier and stroller and also get a grocery cart (I refuse to say “buggie”) because I needed too many things.
When this happens, I push the stroller with the sleeping baby and trail the cart behind me.
My toddler refuses to sit in the cart, so he walks beside me. You can imagine what a hot mess we look like and the scene we create as we try to navigate the narrow labyrinth of the toddler, baby, and shoe sections.
When we’re finally done and headed to check out, I have a bag of items to return so we make our way to customer service.
I can see the cashiers whispering “Not it” to each other in the distance.
My son decides now is a good time to break away from me and take off towards the door, only laughing when I catch him and bring him back.
There’s a line forming behind me.
I put the new “backpack leash” on him that just came in the mail from Amazon.
He screams and tries to pull the “leash” off while I try to bribe and calm him down with phrases like “but it looks so cool!” “Lightening McQueen is in the backpack!” And “you look like a big boy going to school!”
People are judging.
I make this look difficult.
I have a return, a cart full of groceries, my own recyclable bags and 2 separate transactions.
I realize too late that I have again left my coupons behind (in the car) but instead of saying “just forget it” I decide to leave everything in a heap on the counter, take my baby (whose now awake and using her new found voice to make screaming noises just because she can) and my toddler, with his leash, (whose starting to cry because he thinks we’re leaving his Annie’s Bunny cookies behind) and go to the car to get the coupons.
When we get back, the line has decreased, as they needed to call for backup, and we finish the longest checkout in history. I stuff all the recycled bags full of our goodies, gigantic tower of paper towels and hand my son his cookies.
There’s a woman behind me carrying a newborn on her chest wrapped up so you can just see his little head. We have the same diaper bag backpack (from Target) and she looks at me and says very friendly:
“I like your diaper bag!”
Me: “Thanks, same here! Is he your first baby?”
Me: “This is what happens when you have two!”
Old man in the yellow Polo: “Don’t have a 3rd”
Me: (putting my head down) “I won’t”
Friendly lady with the newborn had on normal clothes, her hair in place and just enough makeup to probably cover the dark circles that come with having a new baby.
That was never me.
Even in college I carried a backpack AND a purse on my shoulder because I could never minimize or prioritize! Who knew how many different shades of pink lipgloss I might need throughout the day?
I couldn’t tell you where a tube of lipgloss is now but I still don’t go anywhere with just one bag of necessities.
I am a hot mess of snacks, diapers, missing coupons and changes of clothes.
The more children in have, the crazier this train gets.
I always picture an apocalypse happening and having to grab JUST one bag, both of my children, and running.
What if I forgot to replenish one of their sizes of diapers or there’s melted chocolate from a Chewy granola bar all over the first aid kit? What if there’s no container of portioned formula or room-temperature water bottle? That’s actually likely!
I usually walk out of Target (or any market, really) with one lingering sentence that I silently mouth to myself:
“I’m an asshole”