Offspring

I took Kate and Erin with me to Target on Saturday and lo and behold it was another fine "Mommy, I'm going to have a breakdown in the middle of the store" trip. Yippee for me. Kate had the option to walk or ride in the back of the cart. She chose to walk and was PERFECTLY ok with being given a choice. So I thought, "Great, this is going to go very smoothly." Oh, how could I have been so naive?!? We get partially around through the store and start looking in the baby aisles, when Kate decides to walk around the corner out of sight. I give her a warning and ask that she please stay near me. Again, in another aisle, same thing. About 3 more warnings and I've had enough (yes, I know I should've only given ONE warning and been done, but no, I let the incidents continue). So I take the stiff-as-a-board little 43 inch body and try to stuff her into the back of the cart. Now, this isn't exactly easy. She's fighting me tooth and nail, feet not budging, the cart is rolling away and I'm trying to hoist her into it and she will NOT bend. All the while she's screaming, I don't want to sit in the cart." My last resort is to threaten leaving the store right then and there if she does not stop and sits down in the cart. So she sits and scream/cries that she doesn't want to leave the store ("Oh good," I think, because I'm not done shopping). Erin, meanwhile is beginning to cry because she is mad that the cart is all hurkey jerky and that Kate is screaming.

I ditch the idea of trying to "browse" through the store and head straight for the baby food aisle. The only thing that will stop Kate from crying is the promise to pick out snacks for preschool on Tuesday. Of course the baby food is all the way around the other side of the store. Once there, Kate is still really mad and saying in a half growl, half Wicked Witch of the East voice, "I don't like....." and then secretly pointing at me. I ignore it. It's a call for attention, right? I finally get where I need to be and Kate's tone changes but instead of the loving, "I'm sorry, Mommy." that I expected, she procedes to make an announcement that might as well have been played over the loud speaker. "I'm sorry to tell you people that I don't like my mommy. I do not like my mommy. My mommy is mean to me." Inside I'm dying. Ready to laugh, or cry, I'm not sure which, but I continue to ignore her, as well as the glances I'm getting from the little old lady and the other moms in the aisle.

Eventually her attitude changed and I distracted her with helping me pick out Erin's baby food. But please, tell me again when the terrible two's end and the fabulous fours begin!
As we were leaving the store I saw a lady at the check out that was pushing a double stroller with one child in it and holding a baby plus three other kids of various ages gathered around her. I was wondering how she does it (although she looked as though she'd had her fill of ice cream and other stress relieving foods and was in dire need of having her hair washed). If I had just one more child I would probably never go out to do errands. We need groceries? Eat moldy bread. No toilet paper? Here, use Daddy's Sunday paper. No gas in the car? No problem, we're not going anywhere anyway.