Today, I wanted to rip my hair out. Believe me, I would've tugged on it at least if my hands hadn't been preoccupied pushing around a heavy Pathmark shopping cart and prying a Lipton Soup box and can of breadcrumbs from between my son's gapped teeth.
I hate shopping with a two-year-old. Shopping alone always reminds me of the year or so that I struggled as a very single mom, trying to hold my son and a dozen grocery bags without keeling over. But now that my son is older, I'm starting to realize, grocery shopping alone back then was much easier than now because my son is a MANIAC.
Start the Toddler in a Store Routine:
- Equis picks up packages of steak from the back of the cart and throws them on the floor.
- Equis cries hysterically, his high-pitched scream forcing other customers to fake-smile at me, when I take away the sticky raspberry fruit snacks because he just keeps spitting them onto the floor.
- Equis kicks me and points down to the floor, essentially telling me, "Mama, I don't care that you still need milk and yogurt and cream cheese, get me the heck out of this cart!"
- Equis grabs my sample of American deli cheese, stuffs it into his mouth, chews and then opens his mouth wide to let the white liquid spew onto the floor.
What is it with the floor?!
Finally, I hoist all the meats, drinks, seedless watermelon, onions and $145.00 worth of other items onto the conveyor belt and pay. There is no way I can fit Equis onto the stroller along with all of the groceries so I figure he might as well walk beside me.
At this point, I feel blessed just to have made it out of Pathmark and extremely thankful to those good Samaritans, except we don't even take three steps before Equis is jumping up and down in his brown sandals attempting to knock the receiver from its place on the payphone. I struggle to grab his wrist and pull him away from the payphone, and the 12 pack of toilet paper atop the stroller canopy falls to the floor. I WANT TO RIP MY HAIR OUT.
But, then, Equis does something adorable. He insists on carrying the Quilted Northern toilet paper (I got a $5 off coupon for it from BlogHer'12!) all by himself. I follow his curly hair as he travels over the concrete sidewalk with determination, his tiny, thick fingers pressing tightly into the plastic.
Can you remember a moment when you wanted to rip your hair out? What happened?