I had three crying kids before I could even brush my teeth this morning. The three year old wanted to be in the school room with us, but did not want any part of schooling.  I found where someone had been playing in the Desitin and, then, wiped their hands on the carpet. If you have ever tried to clean that stuff up, you understand my pain. Interruption after interruption and I knew this school day was going nowhere. 

I decided we would go to Walmart – where the floors are always sticky, the buggies are always squeaky and the cashier is sure to roll her eyes when she sees your stack of coupons. Because, after all, isn’t that what any mother would do when her kids are all tired and whining and fighting. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t my best idea ever.

I’m not saying that the baby was unhappy, but three different people stopped me to say they thought my little one may be tired. The suggestion here was, Please take your screaming baby home. I was determined, though. I went down the cereal aisle and, as my children began fighting over who could get the Pop tarts off of the shelf, an older lady handed me a box of granola bars and asked if I could read the ingredients to her. So, I did. It was a long list, y’all. After every couple of words I would look around, count the kids (1, 2, 3, 4 – okay), and continue.

Next, she handed me another box of granola bars and asked if I thought they were also fiber bars. I just didn’t know. She explained her dietary issues to me and turned slightly away from me to scan the other options. I was still holding the items she had handed me. I didn’t really know if I was supposed to leave or continue to stand there. Eventually, she thanked me and took her items and we moved on.

Two aisles later, the baby is still crying, one kid is walking backwards and one is insisting that I pretend she is a new kid whom we don’t know. Another lady walks up and says that she is new to this store and can I show her where the milk is located. Not tell her, mind you, but show her. So, off we go to the opposite corner of the store.

At this point, I knew that this grocery shopping trip was a wash. I looked at my buggy: some toothpaste, brown sugar and Pop tarts. Surely, I can make a meal out of that. 

As we are leaving, my eldest looks at me and says, ” You helped two people in there, mama. I guess that’s why God wanted us to go there.”

I just hope everyone remembers that tonight when I’m serving Pop tarts for dinner.