Last time I took AB to the grocery store, it ended with him in a full body restraint in the front yard because he had come undone. He screamed, hollered, said I was killing him, kicked, tried to bite and I patiently laid over him (in the front yard, mind you) and spoke kindly. "Son. I will let you go if you don't run away. I will let go on a count down of three. Three, Two, One" and he was through the front door, into his room, trashed it, threw his body across his bed and sobbed and screamed and sobbed and screamed. After five minutes,the cold items safely put away, I went in quietly and lifted his shirt to rub him with his desensitization brush. After another five minutes I rubbed his head. After another five minutes he hugged me and kissed me and cleaned up his room.
That was in February over president's day weekend. I haven't taken him since. Normally I have him listen to his mp3 player, I let him be Captain of the Grocery Isle and Captain First. Normally I have a routine to shopping, a list and a scheduled time. When I don't do "normally", AB doesn't do "not normally". It's normally not good. When I say not good, I normally mean, nuclear fall out.
Shopping with Sissy? Let's not go there. My heart is racing just thinking about it. No, seriously. It is.
Shopping with WG is a blast. She is fun, fun, fun.
The result is that I typically shop at night when the kids are in bed or when The Dad is around to be with the other two. And the last few months before Sissy's hospitalization, if I SAID I was leaving, Sissy raged, which meant I didn't go.
And shopping only after 9 pm when the children are in bed means I'm tired and want to be in bed too. It also means our grocery store, though claiming to be 24/7 only has the "do it yourself" checkouts open which are not intended for large grocery shopping tabs.
Because when I shop, i try to do it once a month so I ALWAYS have a large grocery tab.
Which means, I haven't been shopping.
Which means, my pantry and fridge are running low and worse, we're out of toilet paper.
Which means I have to go.
Which means my heart is racing just thinking about it.
No, seriously. It is.
Just one more unintended issue to contend with when you find yourself parenting challenged kids.
1 comment:
My kids like to knock each other out of cart seats onto their heads. Oh, it is just a party in the isle when we are all at the store together. (Insert eye roll)
I am like you with the late night shopping, but I try to find a friend to have dinner with first. It makes it seem less like a chore.
Post a Comment