We went to Target this morning. Ben was almost out of diapers and there were quite a few other things to stock up on.
I remember how just a couple of weeks ago this prospect scared me. Now it’s just a matter of logistical planning: I need to park near where there’s an empty shopping cart. Get Sophie out first and put her in the cart. Put the diaper bag in the cart. Go around and unbuckle Bella. Put Ben in the sling. Don’t forget to lock the doors. Clip the keys onto the diaper bag so they don’t get lost.
(By the way, I don’t understand the parents who put one of the kids in the front of the shopping cart. Where do they put the stuff they’re buying? I always fill up the cart to the top plus stuff underneath.)
I think the whole process through ahead of time, so there are no nasty surprises. I have my list in hand and know the layout of the store.
Bella has a piece of buttered toast and a sippy cup of water. Sophie has a bag of cheese cubes and there’s a second sippy cup in the diaper bag. There will be no hunger-related meltdowns at least.
I am so in control.
And yet people can’t seem to believe that this can be a pleasant sort of outing.
Even when I had just the two girls I’d get the comment: “Wow, you have your hands full!” Now with three, I’m almost certain to get it. Sure enough, there was at least one mom who delivered the line as if on cue. My response is to smile very big and agree, “Yep, they keep me pretty busy.” I won’t lie, it is pretty crazy at times. And yet I let my tone of voice and attitude fill in the rest of the picture: This is fun! I wouldn’t have it any other way.