|
|
My husband was in the middle of year end. Which means many long hours, and weekends too. Which means I had to not only find stuff for the kids to do all week (being school holidays and all), but I had to keep them busy on the weekends too. Well by late one Sunday afternoon they had had enough of the jungle gym, and I was too tired for the park. And I needed some groceries too. So in my infinite wisdom, I decided to kill two birds with one stone... go to Woolies and do a quick shop, and take the kids for a baby-chino at the same time. Now if you don't know what a baby-chino is... clearly you are subscribing to the wrong newsletter.
So I kiss hubby goodbye, bundle the kids in the car with stern warnings of we are NOT buying sweeties or chocolates (the Easter Bunny was way too generous this year as it is), and if we are good MAAAYYBE we can get a baby-chino. So we head off to my local Woolies and start the quick shop. Since I only needed a few things, I decided being the brainiac that I am that a basket would surfice. Well we all know how that goes don't we. There is no such thing as "popping into Woolies for a few things". I always end up buying far more than I intended. So there I was, heavy heavy 21 month old under one arm, basket under other, with 4 year old hanging onto the arms, trying to "help" but actually making me feel like I was dragging a stubborn mule along the fresh produce aisle. So I start taking what I need... yoghurts, cheese, ham, cheesy sausage, cucumber, basket getting heavy, coping, barely... and then Caty spots the cheesy sausage. "UH UH UH" she says stretching towards the basket, leaning heavily across my chest, threatening to fall on her head. "Yes, just wait Caty, I'll give you one when we sit down". Sorry, Mom, at 21 months old I don't know how to wait. When I want something, I want it NOW! More "UH UH UH", preceeded by "UUUUHHHHHH!". ALRIGHT CATY! A SIMPLE "TA" WOULD DO! So I put the basket down, tell Megan to hold still and try and open the cheesy sausage packet. Now they don't come with convenient little half-tears to rip it open, or little zip-lock thingies. So I use the only tool available to me... my teeth, while a little hand is desperately trying to wrench the entire package from my mouth (and all the while open against hope that none of the Woolies employees would notice... although I must admit I do this regularly and they seem to know me well enough to turn a blind eye!). I eventually make a hole big enough to squeeze a sausage through, give it to Caty, put the package back in the basket, pick up the basket, and continue. No sooner have I taken two steps when Megan pipes up, "Mommy, I also want a cheesy sausage!". So I repeat the entire process, ignoring the glares from the old man behind me waiting to get past.
Eventually I make my way to the coffee shop area, stopping every three meters to pick up bits of half eaten cheesy sausage that have been unceremoniously chucked (there is no better word) across the meat aisle. So we find a place to sit and I plonk Caty in a big person's chair, and she sits there like Big Stuff... for five minutes before climbing off the chair and wondering around... she's not going too far, it's all good. Then Megan decides she's a toddler too and follows Caty around, thinking it's funny to squeeze her 4 year old body under a table and rearrange the cutlery in the cutlery tray, and all my hisses of "Megan, Caty, come back here NOOOWW" fall on completely deaf ears!
Eventually the baby-chinos arrive which provides a momentary distraction and for a few sacred seconds we have peace. Caty decides to sit on my lap... for 24.6 seconds, so I spoon in some baby-chino, to which she pulls the craziest face and "pthat's" the entire mouthful onto the table, which by now is sprinkled with sugar and running with coffee spillage. Baby-chino rejected, Caty climbs off my lap and continues her exploration... Now this particular Woolworths has a long passageway running past the wine section that joins the food-market with the coffee shop, and Caty chose the perfect moment to make her escape - when the foam of my cappucino was just touching my lips. As I see her make her dash, I tell Megan in my "don't argue with Mommy" voice to stay put while I race off and get there just in time to catch a bottle of full-bodied red with berry undertones before it smashes on the floor, while I use my the other hand to catch the errant toddler. And then the SMS arrives: "Hello Darling. A takeaway Latte would go down well... Love Me". Try to garner up some sympathy for poor hubby who is working on a Sunday while I am trying to cope with two errant kids... order Latte, pay for coffees, pick toddler up with one arm and takeaway latte with other and proceed to basket... and realise I have no hands... Options are: carry coffee in same hand as toddler and risk serious injury, or carry basket in same arm as toddler and risk having one item thrown out every 29 seconds which by my calculation means that I will have nothing left in the basket by the time I get to the till. So I do what every self-respecting mom would do... carry basket AND coffee in one arm and toddler in other, gritting my teeth everytime I feel a scalding slosh over my knuckles!
Well by the time I get home (less than a kilometer away) there is more coffee on my arm and in the car than in the cup, but hubby is appreciative nonetheless and I am well and truely ready for a holiday. I tell myself what I have told myself many many times before... that I will never ever ever shop with two kids again. Or at least for another week. Or until I need more bread. Okay maybe a day. Long live school term!
© Sally Hetherington .
