Atonement for the Bobsled

I frequently reminisce about the child that I once was and the joys of being part of a large family. One of my favorite memories was going to any store that had the big, stainless steel grocery karts. Even more so were the stores that had the built in buggies so you could strap three kids in- but my Mother quickly put an end to those. Anyways- back in the day we would stick our baby in the baby basket (the one protected place in the cart), carefully wait for our dear Mother's attention to be diverted, and then shout "ONE! TWO! THREE!" together in German with Jamaican accents (like in the movie  Cool Running) and then my three brothers and I would each grab a corner of the cart and run down the aisle, jumping on at the end, right before we slid into the other half of the store. Indeed, there was nothing more wonderful in the world for the five of us giggling children- but if there could have been, it would have been when we combined our "bobsled" with "bowling" and aimed for someone or something, or when our Mother and the store manager would take off after us in hot pursuit (never actually succeeding until we were done), or by some mis-luck, we managed to stop before running into something. Today, the Carma gods got even with me for every bad idea I put into my brothers heads and never was punished for. 

Going to the grocery store is not an exciting event anymore.  With the number of people who live combined with how much produce we eat mixed with my inability to keep a garden alive through frost, drought, and wildlife, we have to go every couple days.  I frequently go grocery shopping by myself. I have gone grocery shopping by with Susan many times. I have gone with Susan and the two eldest more than that. I have even gone with Susan and all five of the kids a couple times. So factoring in that there are five growing children who tend to, ahem- inhale food around here, going to the grocery store should not be an adventure- but it was today. 

Today I took the four youngest (ages eight, seven, five, and four) to the grocery store by myself and not for the first time in my life, I realized how HARD it is to be a Mother.  Today I realized that there are few things more terrifying than a four-year-old who is throwing a temper tantrum.  Today I realized that people judge large families by the behavior of my little rapscallions.  Today I realized how much none of that matters because today I realized how much I love them, but I am getting ahead of myself.

Due to the many appointments we had to get done today, my godmother and I decided it would be best if we separated to hit up the grocery store and the doctor's office, and since even on the best of days the doctor's office is boring we decided I would take the kids with me to the grocery store.  I like going to this particular store because occasionally (like on mornings where I didn't get coffee) I can stop by the coffee shop next door and get my favorite non-coffee-flavored-coffee which is 2 part whipped cream, 3 parts syrup, 1 part sprinkles, 2 parts ice, and perhaps a fraction of a part coffee.  So we pulled up and four well behaved, gorgeous little children climbed out of the car, waited for me on the sidewalk, held hands- two by two- and trotted after me as if they were angel children sent from heaven.  Then we got into the coffee shop. 

I think they must pump caffeine in the air because in the moments it took for me to walk up to the counter and order my coffee the barrista looked at my celestial shadows and remarked, "What adorable children!  And so well-behaved too!"  (Surely any sane person would know better than to say that within earshot of the children- but alas no- she lacked this sense.)  I was laughing as she turned to me and smiled and asked the now familiar question of, "Are they all yours?"  Just once I would like to have the gumption to say, "No- they've been following me around for years, calling me Mommy, but I still have no clue who these strangers are."  Instead I smiled back and replied, "Actually, they're my cousins.  Aren't they sweet?"  This particular barrista was funnier than most and responded, "Wow- you have a lot of cousins."  Okay, she was asking for it- I try to rationalize, but it was just too good an opportunity to pass up.  "Actually- four isn't so many- there are more at home.  And I'm one of ten."  So what if this number comes more from the lost boys my Mother picked up- she certainly didn't know that.  But as you might have guessed by now from the bobsledding incidents I incited as a child- I am evil!!!! 

In the minute it took me to have this conversation with the barrista my attention was diverted.  I turned to see eight little eyes facing all directions (now being influenced by the caffeine in the air) and touching everything in sight.  Oh yes, my very well behaved children.  I managed to diver their attention to watching my coffee being made.  I am a cruel, cruel woman because I took the coffee confection and didn't share.  They asked with their pleading little eyes and I informed him I would give in and give them most things but caffeine mixed with sugar was not one of them. 

Then we went to the grocery store- famous last words.  (I would like to point out that I am not as cruel as I may seem because they had breakfast as Sonic whereas I had not even managed coffee before this point.)  I decided it would be fun to tell the kids we were going on a treasure hunt with the ads (circled with quantities written) as a map.  Famous last words.  The Baby I secured in the basket with Irene in the main part of the buggy.  The boys were stationed, one as a map holder, and the other as lookout on the front of the cart.  Simple enough, right?  WRONG!!!!!!! 

Did you know that if you turn your back on a child in the basket, she will a) try to put on the safety strap that does not fit her, b) try to help you put things in the cart that aren't on the list, c) holler to be let out in order to better assist you with "choosing" the green beans, or d) talk to every passer by and explain that *I* am not her mommy.  Moreover, while you are trying to persuade the baby that perhaps screaming is not the best course of action, at least one of the boys will wander off into the busiest part of the store (gratefully, still within sight) and stop to ponder the ceiling tiles.  This will be followed by the glares of complete strangers as I hasten the boys back to me, with a baby on my hip, followed by Irene screaming not to forget her (as if I could!) 

By the end of the shopping trip I learned a great many things about myself. 
1) I still don't care what other people think.
2) My borrowed children bring smiles (and laughter) wherever they may go.

3) As flustered as I may get at the time, they haven't thrown anything at me (yet) that I haven't been able to later laugh off.

4) I love those kids more than anything. 
5) Loving children does not equate to understanding them.
6) I like a challenge.

Ah yes, I am brilliant.  While in the checkout line they were perfectly behaved, touched nothing, chatted politely with the checker, and waved good-bye to the grocery store and all the other shoppers as we left.  I think I saw them all sigh in relief at our exit.  And then their mother called.  Suddenly I had a cart full of monkeys- howling and crying, calling pitieously for "Mama." 

After a lengthy moment of contemplation, I would like to add the following note.  Mama, if you're reading this, I'm sorry for the child I was, and thank you for loving us all in spite of the stunts we pulled.  And I'm sorry about the Bobsled.