You get the school supply list weeks in advance and decide you will beat the rush, get it all done, and pat yourself on the back for being so ahead of the game. Multiple trips later you are so close to done, but the items left are so easy, you can easily pick them up on your next few errand runs. Then time begins to run out. So you load all the kids up and hit the stores. Again.
You had vowed not to enter the doors of Target again. You know walking through the doors vacuums an immediate $100 out of the bank account. If you are lucky. You dread taking the kids, but school’s still out. Besides they should learn to behave in the stores, right? Right. So off you go.
You park the car and start with a tone that is happy and cheerful. “Please behave. If you don’t, well, you will lose everything you love.” Still smiling you all pile out. Your children climb the big red concrete balls out front like they are giant beach balls. The bike racks out front become an obstacle course, and the next thing you know, your children are jumping, climbing, and tagging. You try to at least appear you maintain control of your children, so you smile and play along like you are a super cool, fun mom. Because you are, right? Right.
You walk through the doors and the clerks at Target nod you through the door. Sympathy in their eyes. They know what the aisles hold for you. They know when you leave you will have less money, more junk, nerves that have been shaken and stirred, and a temptation waiting at the exit called Grande White Chocolate Mocha. Another thing you don’t need.
Still smiling you speak through clenched teeth to your children telling them their antics out front are unacceptable and to behave for the love of everything holy. And they do. For 30 whole seconds. Then they feed off of each other and begin to act as if we never leave the house and it’s their first experience in the face of everything they’ve ever wanted.
“Can I have?” NO! “Look at these!” We don’t need them. “We lost Jacob.” He will find us. Stick to the list, get out fast.
You meet eyes with the other mamas with their lists in hands. You smile knowingly, eyes that say ‘I get it.’
You get to the end of your list and realize the school supplies that were so easy were so not. So you leave sweating, exhausted, and frustrated. Because it means more stores. And your youngest is on the verge of melt down because every other kid he passed had an ICEE and on top of that he still doesn’t have his special kindergarten notebook. You reassure him that you will take care of it all.
You try your best to make it to the cash register, but a child falls down. Another drops everything they touch. Even though you have begged them to keep their hands to themselves. The whole time you pray you see no one you know because they will definitely realize you are a mama in need of help!
The cashier remembers you. She asks the same question you say no to every time. No I don’t want a red card. I would like to decrease my visits please.
You ask your children not to dart out of the doors because there will be people coming in not expecting energy filled children to barrel through the doors. Plus there is the car issue. Surely, they will listen. Because you are a consistent mama, right? Right.
And they don’t. But you are out of the doors, so you have to act like you are a cool, fun mom letting them explore and be kids. You turn your back because maybe if you don’t watch, it just won’t happen. Maybe they do it for your benefit.
You turn your back, then you hear a gasp, which causes you to take a sharp glance over your shoulder in time to see a woman talking on her phone with her super obedient daughter almost drop her coffee and say, “Oh my gosh. Thank goodness,” as she clutches her chest. Right behind her you see one of your children atop the giant concrete balls as another child shoved him from behind and he goes barreling towards the concrete face first. Only he catches himself with both hands and comes up laughing and high-fiving his brothers. You apologize to the lady, laugh it off saying something like, “That’s my life with 3 boys.”
You make the mistake of combining shoe shopping in the same trip. Because the thought of coming out again in public makes you want to crawl into bed until the Monday you drop them off at school with tears in your eyes because you know on that day you will not remember the Target trips that added new wrinkles to your face. But you are a tough mama, right? Right. So you just do it.
And 2 of your children begin pulling off every pair of shoes they see. And the man looks scared. And you realize you are disrupting your town and you must go home. Now!
You pile in the car. They won. They broke you.
And then. You look in their sparkly little eyes that are full of life. You see behind the energy into those precious little hearts. One child says, “I’m sorry we were bad, Mom.” Your heart softens, you release your breath you realized you’d been holding. You can’t help it. You’re a softie, right? Right.
And you know that one day you will miss these days. You will. You will. You will. And you tell yourself that over and over and over again. It’s the best way to save your sanity as you get ready to send them back into the world. The thing is. It’s true. You will miss it.
This all sounds familiar to you, right? Please tell me yes. Then I can feel like I’m a tad bit normal because August and May make me feel like I’m losing my mind.
But I’m not, right?
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