- BC Games
The Parent Trip
It’s grocery shopping day. Just when you think you’re all stocked up and have a few meals in the fridge, your husband needs new deodorant. Desperately. So back you go, again. We pull in and I sit behind the wheel for just a split second. Take a slow breath.
I have two girls, Four and Two. I get Four out first. It’s raining. I put up her hood and wish I had thought to bring my coat, brush my teeth, eat breakfast, as she promptly pulls it off. I grasp her hand and head around to get her sister. A car whizzes by. I pin Four to the side of the truck with my knee and pry Two from her seat. The rain drips down the back of my shirt. To the fast driver’s defence, since I’ve had children some sort of space-time bubble has existed around them where everything everyone does is too fast, too loud, too something.
OK. I tell the girls to hold hands and they don’t and Four is complaining about me pinning her against the truck. I apologize like I’m really surprised by this, but I can’t say I blame her. Who wants to be pinned to the side of a truck by a giant knee? As I scoop up Two and we run into the store I repeat a single prayer over and over in my head. Please God, let there be a car cart. No! My heart sinks. Maybe someone is just paying? No. The questions begin. “Mommy, where is our car cart? Who took it?” I try to explain the logistics of supply and demand.
We’re walking. If I try to put Two in a regular cart while Four gets to walk, Two will lose it. I grab a basket and we head for the deodorant, which means there is no way to detour around the candy and stuffed animal display. I try to grab their attention with a big story about how we have to help Daddy; his fate is in our hands. Doesn’t matter. Their tiny hands are drawn to the plastic wrapped sugar like bees to honey and I swat them away while putting things back on the shelf.
I grab deodorant, toss it in the basket and head into produce, because I’ve thought of four things I could grab now that MAY prevent another trip tomorrow. The girls are running and I’m ‘quietly yelling’ to stay with Mommy. I grab some stuff we may not need and herd them to the till. There are three car carts sitting poised in their spots, ready for the next lucky mother. And we’ll probably do it all again tomorrow.