Monday, March 14, 2011
As the end of the week approaches it begins, I start to feel sick and worried and a feeling of dread settles into the pit of my stomach. On Thursday night it's worsened to the point that I have trouble sleeping and then I awake on Friday morning exhausted and dispirited.
I know it has to be done, just as it had to be done last week....and the week before...and the week before that.
It's the bane of Mother's of small children everywhere - the weekly trip to the supermarket.
Until recently I have quite enjoyed my trip down the hallowed aisles of Woolworths. I love food and I love cooking, so a trip to the supermarket has always been a bit of an adventure (sad, I know) the possibilities, the opportunities, oh, what fabulous items can I coerce into memorable meals for my family?
But lately my weekly sojourn into the wonderful world of food has been interrupted.....disturbed....destroyed...and all by a person about 2 and a half feet tall who has the personality of a whirlwind.
Unfortunately my terrible, oops sorry, terrific toddler hasn't inherited her Mother's love of buying foodstuffs.
It begins almost the instant we drive into the car park and continues until we drive out again 45 minutes later; screaming, yelling, kicking, pulling things off shelves, biting, hitting, crying.
Little old ladies "Tut, tut, tut", other Mother's hurry away and avert their eyes and silently hope that their little angel isn't silently taking notes. Mother's with like-minded toddlers nod and sigh.....they too know the pain.
The treats I pack get spat out, the toys I bring get thrown, my gentle banter to try and divert her attention - ignored.
A fake and painful smile is fixed on my face as I throw obscure items that I don't need into my trolley and try to make my escape as fast as humanely possible. The lady at the checkout sees me coming; a look of fear flits across her face before she too fixes a fake and painful smile on her face. I apologise profusely as I hold onto my struggling child and quickly load up my items.
A man behind me mutters about "giving that child a good slap" and my heart sinks down around my knees.
Suddenly the answer occurs to me, the solution, the light at the end of the tunnel, healer of hurts and up-lifter of moods. I cuddle my precious child, kiss her and then hand her a piece of chocolate.....ahhh, silence, what bliss.