Angels Do Exist (at the Grocery Store)

Every time I take my kids grocery shopping, I return with a week’s worth of food and a lifetime’s worth of regret. Every time, I search my soul for an answer to the question: Why didn’t I do Home Shop?

Last week, I took the kids shopping after picking my three-year-old up from preschool. I had 80 minutes to before we had to be home for lunch. In my mind, it seemed totally reasonable.

I arrived at preschool pick-up a couple minutes early. When Chloe saw me she pronounced, “I wasn’t expecting you.” We were off to a great start.

As we walked to the car, she took off running.

“I need you to get in the car, please.” I called.

In response, she threw herself into leaf pile.

We did not have time to frolic.

“Get. In. The. Car. Please.”

She burrowed deeper into the leaves as I scooped her into the car. She strained against me. Fury bubbled up in my chest. Just breathe, I told myself. I was just breathing, buckling her into her carseat, when she hit my arm.

Deep breathing could piss off. “WE. DON’T. HIT.”

I seethed as I made a detour for a proper time-out.

We did not have time for a time-out.

I directed her to an upside-down bucket in our garage, where she sat facing the wall, hands in her lap, for three minutes. I watched from the car as my “Happiness” podcast came over Bluetooth. Oh, irony is a clever bitch. Click here to read the rest on Scary Mommy. (PS Happy Thanksgiving!)

 

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