I remember grocery shopping with my mom but, even more clearly, I remember NOT grocery shopping with my mom.
Every week, my mother and father, younger brother and I would pile into the family car for a trip to the grocery store. I loved going to the store. I loved the buggy and the people and the shelves filled with food. I loved to pick out my own cereal and help put our purchases on the conveyor belt. I especially loved to look at the candy, brilliantly situated near the check out lanes. It was here, in the candy section, that my weekly grocery store trips came to a screeching, and I mean that literally, halt.
I can’t remember the specific item I demanded, I can’t remember the screaming, crying and stomping that followed, I can’t even remember the effort with which my mother dragged my failing body away to the car but I remember the sentence I was to endure for the next two years – sitting in our vehicle, trapped with my father and his palpable dislike of my beloved weekly shopping trips.
My father, typical of the late ‘60’s husband and father, did not offer any assistance with household chores or child care. In fact, at the mere mention that he participate in these activities, he would launch into a drama that even Shakespeare would envy. He hated grocery shopping and seethed in the car, ruminating over the inordinate amount of time that my mother was taking in purchasing our groceries. And so it went, for two years, my father and I would sit stoic in our seats, glowering at one another wile my mother shopped and my brother rode on the horse ride for a nickle. It took a long time to earn back my mother’s trust, something I always kept in mind any time I contemplated doing something that I knew I shouldn’t do.
I learned a valuable lesson all those years ago – that crying and screaming to get your way is no match for a determined mother with a very long memory. It is a lesson that I have thought about often while parenting my own two children.
Rebecca is a member of urbanmoms.ca and mother of two. Share your thoughts and opinions on her story below in comments.
I remember my son having a grocery melt down one day. When I finally managed to get his screeching spastic body strapped into the car seat I closed the door and was amazed by how quiet it was outside the car. I remember leaning there against the car deciding weather or not I really wanted to get in!
Finally a mom from my play group drove up and parked near me. (Sans child lucky duck!) I explained the situation and by the time I was done my son was done with his fit and I said goodbye to my friend and we all went on our way. He does not remember it but I sure do.