I mostly spend each day living in brief gulps from one moment to the next. In between tickle fights and time outs, I also sweat it out each day on the tightrope that is PPD and all its repercussions in my family, my health, my marriage and my sense of humor. Some days are good, some days only wish they could aspire to the high ranks of pond scum, but it's all part of my life. And it's all worth it.
The pavlovian car-cart
I understand, in theory, that whoever invented those grocery carts with little cars on the front had good intentions at heart. I’m sure he thought what could be more fun, more distracting, for two little kids than to sit in a cab and be pushed through the store, totally occupied while mom peacefully shops?
Except that inventor, I have a strong suspicion, did not HAVE any children. The car-cart is my nemesis. It’s bulky and difficult to maneuver and the actual basket is too small to hold groceries for the average family. Most of all, though, is its debilitating effect on my kids.
“Car-cart! Car-cart!” would erupt the second we got to the store. They were at one time infamous for collapsing into complete hysterics if, God forbid, someone else was using it and they had to settle for its poor cousin. Then, after all this drama, the entire trip through the store would be marked by screams, pushing, hitting and my not-so-whispered threats to dump them in the diaper aisle for someone else to buy and take home if they didn’t stopthatrightnoworIwillgiveyousomethingtocryABOUT (yes, it’s finally happened– the threats of my childhood are now mainstays of my own vocabulary).
The worst, worse even than their deafening battles to control the wheel, is when they would wait until I was as far from the front of the store as possible, with a basket at least half-full, and then jump out of the cab. So there I would be, pushing a monstrosity through narrow aisles with two children running in opposite directions from me and the barge. This was an awful lot like threading the proverbial needle with a camel, only with a heard of jackals circling you at the same time.
The car-cart is now forbidden in my family. The last time we used one, I ended up abandoning it in the dairy section while I pulled two squalling whirlwinds by their shirt collars out of the store, dangerously close to using them both as bowling balls across the parking lot. The upside to that day, (which I salvaged with a VERY large glass of wine), is that they both now associate the car-cart, like Pavlov’s well-trained dogs, with a healthy dose of respectful terror.
Because what would be the point of having children without them being at least a little bit afraid of you?
We also had a bad experience with the car cart and it is also not allowed in our family!
Comment by alison — July 20, 2009 @ 8:04 pmI’m laughing so hard right now! I HATE THOSE CARTS! And of course I’ve been foolish enough to introduce them to all of my boys–two of which are now 7 and 9 and way to old to be even thinking about riding in them.
Comment by Hillary — July 21, 2009 @ 8:52 amWorse is that one of the stores I visit doesn’t allow you to take them out into the parking lot. You have to reload all of your stuff into a regular cart.
More trouble than they’re worth, for sure.
Oh get this! I was “driving” one of those mac-truck-sized carts through the store and finally completed my shopping. When I arrived at the checkout lane, I waited patiently and pushed the thing up only to be told by the clerk, “I really prefer that you back these up so that I can grab the groceries more easily.” So, I had to TURN IT AROUND in the checkout lane with not one but TWO lanes of shoppers to interrupt. grrrrrrr
Comment by Janalee — July 28, 2009 @ 4:18 pm