Today, I went grocery shopping. With both children. By myself. Did I mention that I have a 2 year old (Sweetpea) and a 3 year old (Spud)?
Normally, I leave the kids with my husband and go grocery shopping in the evening. This time though, I wanted to pick up a few things at the store in the city. I figured I was super mom and we could pop in and out with a load of groceries.
We headed over to the bedding area. The main reason I wanted to go to this store was to pick up a couple sets of sheets. Around the time we arrive there, Sweetpea decides she's had enough with sitting in the cart and wants out. Okay, fine. It was good while it lasted.
Then she tried to help by taking all the other sheets off the shelf. All of them. I quickly grabbed a few sets, put one in the cart and tried to give one to her to carry. No go. Okay fine.
We carry on and Sweetpea is trying to grab everything off the shelves. Everything. And not taking it well when I take things away from her and put them back.
Fine, over to the bakery. Get the kids each a cookie. That puts me by the produce section, so in the 32.4 seconds that delay buys me, I manage to get some bananas, melon and apples.
Time's up. Freak out.
I tried to get some more food. I went up a couple more aisles, throwing things in my cart. Sweetpea would calm down for a few seconds, so I thought I'd get a chance.
No go. She was rolling around on the floor. Flailing in my arms. Screaming like her leg had been cut off.
Show over. I decide to abandon the cart and leave.
"NOOOOOO!" wails Spud. "MOMMY, our cart!"
I try to explain to him that we are going to come back later to get our groceries. That his sister was sad and we had to go. I tried to take his hand. Help him come out of the store with me.
"NOOOOOO!!!! OUR CART!!!"
I could not carry a 30 pound flailing 2 year old and a 40 pound flailing 3 year old at the same time.
I headed to the back of the store with them (and the frickin' cart). There's a little counter there where you can buy ready to eat food and drinks. I look for a little carton of milk. They've got pop you can buy by the can, but no milk. Crap. After asking someone, it's determined that I can pay for my big 4 litre of milk right away and swipe some of their coffee cups.
Great. That bought me about 2 minutes and 41 seconds.
When the meltdown begins again, I head straight for the cash register. Anything I've missed or forgotten I can get another time.
As we're standing in line, about to unload the cart, Spud informs me that he has to go potty.
My very recently (and not reliably) potty trained child has to pee. Now. So, we leave the cart behind and head to the bathroom. Fortunately, no freak outs this time about leaving the cart.
Sweetpea then slips on the bathroom floor. (Wet from just being mopped, no sign to indicate so). Spud gets upset because I don't go potty too.
We head back to our cart (with more screaming and flailing) and Spud starts getting upset about the lady that was in front of us. He's old enough to have a basic understanding of turns and fairness, but not to see the gray that's in between the black and white. I explain to him that since we left the line, somebody else went in front of us and it was their turn now.
Apparently, b*tch lady in front of me heard this exchange and decided to make a point by unloading her cart as... slowly... as... she... could.
Seriously, even the cashier started tapping her hand to indicate she was ready to scan the next item. This lady just continued to move at the speed of a very slow snail. Meanwhile, I'm dealing with one screaming child and one annoyed child.
Finally, I get through and have my items back in the cart. Slow lady is still there, and has been shooting me evil eyes the whole time. I very politely (and it was polite; I practiced in my head numerous times to make sure I kept the sarcasm out) told her to have a nice day. Then I left.
Somehow, I survived.
So, what's the point of this parenting-from-hell story on a weight loss blog? It's simple. When this was done, both children were strapped into their carseats, and I was sitting in the car, I had one very clear thought.
I deserve a donut.
Or a peanut buster parfait from the dairy queen there. Maybe a fancy coffee drink with topped off with whipped cream.
I must admit that it wasn't virtuousness that kept me from going through a tim hortons drive through. It was the fact that my children were likely to scream while I waited and tried to place the order. Once I had passed all potential drive thrus and started the highway drive home, I had some time to think.
Did I really deserve a donut?
Well yes. Yes I did. I had just been through the most hellish shopping trip I'd ever been on. In fact, I'm quite amazed that I didn't break down in tears, and I won't claim that it wasn't close. I did deserve a donut. I deserved something that would make me feel better.
Okay then. Would it actually make me feel better?
Hmmm, might make me feel better. For a moment. A short moment.
What else did I deserve?
I deserve to hit my goal weight. I deserve to feel better about the clothes I wear. I deserve to be able to run and bike and swim.
I don't deserve to feel sluggish from that donut. I don't deserve a cookie or a second donut that will likely follow the first one. I don't deserve to delay the day I'll reach goal any further.
The thing is, whether or not I deserved that donut was irrelevant. There are too many other things that I deserve more. Too many other things that I need more. And while I might deserve the donut, I don't deserve the consequences that come from eating the donut. Well, okay, maybe if I ate that donut, I would deserve said consequences. Man, this gets complicated!
I didn't buy a donut.