The Lessons You Learn at Your Neighborhood Target

I went to Target in a hunt for sneakers last week. It's really a pain to try to find sneakers that fit the dress code when you know that the kid will only wear the shoes for six weeks - then the summer comes, the sneakers are abandoned and poof! Fall arrives and you've got to go look for new ones.

So we combined a trip to Target with a refilling of prescriptions. I had requested that the doctors office call in a new Advair for Riley and Allegra, and I had arranged for my own refills of the other asthma meds that we needed.

Oh, Spring and Pollen, how I adore you so.

We found sneakers (score! $6.48 on clearance, so three kids got sneakers AND I bought two pairs for next year - I'd have bought more if the correct sizes were available) and we made our way to the pharmacy.

Along the way, I'd tossed in shampoo (we NEVER EVER EVER have enough of the stuff), conditioner, various body wash, cleaning supplies and tissues that we were out of as well as some vitamins. I approached the counter and asked for the prescriptions, only to find out that Riley's Advair was nowhere to be found. After an exhaustive search, we discovered that it had been called in to a pharmacy that we no longer use, and so we waited for it to be transferred.

It was after 7 on a school night and my little ones were getting ridiculously out of control. They weren't bad, necessarily, just tired in that irritatingly exhuberant manner that kids take on before bed. That spazzy, boneless, frantic running the aisles, shouting to each other at various cool sights, and calling to me from across the way. I didn't care. I was tired. We'd been in the store more than an hour and had at least 30 minutes to go, it was past bedtime and I just wanted nothing so badly as to be OUT of there already. They could have done handstands on the counter and as long as no one got hurt, I wouldn't have cared.

I spotted a woman standing at the very end of the aisle next to me, and noticed, in the way most curious (read: nosy) people will, that she had an armload of minor supplies and was looking to add a pregnancy test to her armload. She kept glancing over at my kids, and I knew what she was thinking. I could all but read it in her eyes.

Dressed in business attire, beautifully groomed, every single hair in place - she was a vision. She was slender and tall, even without her trendy heels. In contrast, my hair was tossed up in a clip, shooting out the top like a fountain. I did have makeup on, but it was 12 hours old and I'd taken boxing that day. My kids were wild - the behavior of the truly undisciplined. I almost didn't want to claim them, and I'd given birth to them.

I wondered if she had any children. I knew that observing my kids would make really good birth control.

I longed to tell her that this, this chaotic, messy, loud vision, was the truth of Motherhood. It wasn't the sanitized Pampers commercial that most of us dream of. Motherhood means searching for sneakers long after you want to. It means never having glue or tape, and finding the scissors behind the toilet, probably with strands of a child's hair wrapped between the blades. It means being so crazy aggravated by 6 p.m. that you long for a nanny, a maid, and a large vodka tonic. It means eating a fistful of cold cereal as you drive to school for the second time to deliver a forgotten instrument/project/lunch box. It means running the virus scan on your computer every.single.flippin.day because your child has an annoying habit of downloading every single thing offered. It means no sleep when your son goes out to do police work wearing a bullet proof vest and holding your child while she cries her heart out.

That positive pregnancy test means so much more than baby shampoo, diapers, slings and pediatrician visits.

It means the rest of your life.

The next morning, as I was driving my kids to school, I wondered how her test results appeared. I hoped that they were everything she wanted. I hadn't planned for my life to go this way, but I'm trying to enjoy every single minute just the way it is.

 

Comments

[Heather @ Not a DIY Life]

Oh, amen, sista. Amen. Motherhood isn't what I expected. But I wouldn't trade it for the world.

[Shelly]

I knew it wasn't going to be easy, but not this way. My mom made raising 7 children so easy. I cannot figure out HOW she did it! Anywoo, I would never trade being a mom for anything in the world.

[Headless Mom]

You're so right. We all dream of the angelic infant sleeping in our arms...and we get that, but all the rest of this too. Yes, it's lovely, except when it's not.

[Lesli]

I remember being that woman (well, minus the tall part at least, for sure), and seeing kids and their associated chaos during the time that we were looking to start our own family. I'd always think, "I want that." No specific "that", just...that. Being a big daydreamer and planner, this vagueness of thought was pretty unusual for me. I guess I knew somehow what I didn't know, and also didn't want to set any expectations. And now, eleven years and three kids later, I have "that", and love it...well, most of it. ;) It's great fun to observe people and come up with scenarios for them; too bad there's usually no follow-up, isn't it? Great post!

[Nicki]

No kidding. Each day when I look at the mess and chaos and break up the fights and what-not and think this is *not* what I thought being a mother would be like, it is followed by the thought that I love them dearly and am lucky to be their mom, especially when they draw a picture for me, or feed the dog, or make me chocolate milk for breakfast or something along those lines. Then they break something else and I ponder whether 10:00 in the morning is too early for a drink. It is, right?

[Jennifer]

What a great story! I remember standing in a Target line with my pregnancy test in hand, hoping for a little baby, but completely clueless about everything that would entail. Now I am the mom with the wild hair, peas on my pants, doing everything with one hand while a child occupies the other, standing in a Target checkout with a couple of monsters screaming and wailing. But I tend to see those polished women that I recall being and never once long to be in that place again. I'll take the rare showers, frazzled emotions, and cart full of shampoo as long as it comes with the giggles, smiles, and baby blue eyes. :-)

[elz]

So true. Motherhood is a constant attempt at balance amidst chaos. I still wear heels, make-up and business suits, but my finest accomplishments will always be my children. They are more than my job. They are my life's legacy.

[LizP]

>> It means being so crazy aggravated by 6 p.m. that you long for a nanny, a maid, and a large vodka tonic.<<

This is why I love reading your blog ... it validates the fact that it is totally ok that I feel the same way (except I'll trade your vodka tonic for a bloody mary!)

[J from Ireland]

Oh jaysus Carmen, no truer words said!

[kyooty]

Beautiful! I was a bit "short" with a friend lastnight and said "oh that's the egg in the basket" and she was looking at me in one complete stare of "OMG are you..." I had ot say "no it's just an egg, eggs are harmless, it's there other million you have to watch out for" She burst out laughing. :p

[CICi]

I had two children....I never expected what would come after. It wasn't after having kids I realized how strong women (children or no) happen to be :) Great Post!

[UKCraftySal]

Great post, Carmen, it struck so many chords with me. Just yesterday I had the "I didn't know THIS was what we were signing up for" conversation with my husband (again!!).

I feel just a smidge less guilty now about the number of times I think "How long until he (my 17 year old son) leaves home?". At least so far, I've managed not to actually say it to him!!