Monday, 24 March 2008 00:00
I am pushing a shopping cart and holding back tears. I am embarrassed, overwhelmed, frustrated. My OLDEST son is the one throwing a tantrum in the middle of the grocery store.
I'm trying to check out... in the self-checkout lane so I wouldn't have to deal with a cashier. But of course, it is malfunctioning. "Push credit to pay with a credit or debit card," the machine squeaks at me, over and over again. But I just want to pay with cash and leave. I attempt to shove my $20 bill into the cash receiver. The machine won't have it. My 3 year old is still crying about the yogurt I didn't buy. I hate companies that market to kids. Really? Really? The yogurt with Diego or Dora on the side is $2.00 more than the yogurt with the ripe strawberry on the packaging? My son doesn't even watch Diego or Dora. Why does he care? I'm stressing here. The light above my "self checkout register" is flashing. "Assistance Needed... Assistance Needed."
I DO need assistance. I look around to see how many people are watching my son meltdown while I drop money on the floor in scattered frustration. No one really seems to care. Then, a voice. I stand up, ready to be really ticked off at the well-meaning person who just HAS to interject into my chaos. But then, "Three boys?"
"Yes," I half smile. We DO make for an interesting sight. And, tears, snot, and frustration aside, they ARE pretty-darn-cute if I may say so myself.
"I had three boys too. They're grown now." She is well put-together, about 50, looks well rested, something I only imagine... "I promise," she says, smiling, "This is the hardest it will ever be."
Take a deep breath. It's yogurt, folks. It's yogurt and a crabby kid who didn't nap. It's nice outside and he hates being dragged to the grocery store for "just a few items." Mom can't help it if she wants asparagus for dinner - right? He can't help it if some days, sometimes, being the oldest of three boys is probably stressful in its own right.
"Thanks," I manage a grin. My son starts to calm down. The machine takes my money. Somewhere a little leprechan is probably eating handfuls of gold from the end of a rainbow (I imagine this is what leprechans do... but I'm not sure why.)
My new mantra is "This is the hardest it will ever be." I'm keeping this perspective, reminding myself that I have YEARS of immense joy to look forward to. That my sons, each in their own way, will bless my life in more ways than I can imagine. Talking to a father at my work the other day, he said, "My son has been the greatest joy in my life." And he has a great kid. And he is a great dad. And he has a great wife. And they are fun, joyful, funny, full of life and still mostly sane. I have a great hope that someday my husband and I will be that couple. We will stand proud of our sons, sons who have grown into godly strong men. And then, all the yogurt and screaming will have been well worth it.
